Gladiator: Vengeance

13

The road crested a ridge and there before them lay the great city of Athens, bathed in the afternoon sun. Lupus gazed down, eyes wide with excitement as he took in the details. Athens was dominated by the complex of temples and shrines surrounding the lofty columns of the Parthenon, constructed on the great rock of the Acropolis. Around it sprawled the markets, theatres and prestigious homes of the city’s wealthiest citizens. The remains of the long wall that linked Athens to the port of Piraeus still stretched across the intervening countryside, but it was in a poor state of repair, neglected once the threat from Persia and the other Greek states had faded away. The scribe stepped on to a rock near the road for the best view and laughed with delight.

Marcus stopped beside the rock and looked up at him. ‘What’s the matter, Lupus? Never seen a Greek city before?’

‘Not this one!’ He beamed. ‘I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamt of coming here one day. And now there it is … Athens!’

Festus joined them. The bruises resulting from the beating he took from Procrustes had come out in vivid reds and purples. Walking under the burden of his pack had added to his pain and he had been forced to slow his pace, letting the two boys lead. Now Festus eased his pack down and joined them as they gazed on the most famous of the Greek cities.

He was silent for a moment before he grunted, ‘Not very big. I was expecting something more, given the way the Greeks go on about it. Not a patch on Rome, or Alexandria.’

‘Size isn’t everything,’ Lupus said with a trace of irritation. ‘Athens may not be the biggest city in the empire but it is the wisest.’

‘Wise, eh?’ Festus shrugged. ‘A lot of good that did ’em.’

Lupus ignored his dismissive comment and turned back to gaze at the city. ‘This is where the greatest philosophers come from. The greatest playwrights, sculptors and poets. This is where the very idea of democracy was born. Right there in the Agora.’ Lupus pointed down at the marketplace, and the columned gardens that stood beside it. ‘That’s where Socrates, Plato and Aristotle taught their theories to their students.’ Lupus’s eyes blazed with a passion that Marcus had never seen in him before. ‘How can you not be moved by the prospect of walking in their footsteps?’

‘Right now, my feet are killing me,’ Marcus groaned. ‘I’d be more moved by the prospect of taking the weight off them.’

Lupus made a face. ‘How can you not be excited?’

‘Because we’re here to find my mother. I don’t care much for the rich history of the place. I just want to know where Decimus is, or his estate. That’s all. Try to remember that.’

Lupus’s expression changed. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. Just got a bit carried away.’

Festus carefully stretched his back and winced. ‘Now that we’ve had our little moment of cultural appreciation, would you mind if we got on? We still have a few miles to go.’

Lupus climbed down and grumbled as he bent to lift his pack and heave it on his shoulder once more. When all three were ready Festus gestured ahead and they started down the slope towards the distant city. There was plenty of traffic on the road: carts and wagons laden with farm produce trundled behind teams of mules or oxen, pedlars bowed under the load of their wares, a handful of riders, usually well dressed, and many travellers on foot.

‘There’re a lot of people on the road,’ Marcus mused. ‘Wonder why?’

A man walking past them carrying a big net filled with straw hats glanced back. ‘No mystery in that, my friend. The governor is putting on a spectacle. Five days of entertainment in the arena. They’re just putting the finishing touches to it, over there.’ He pointed to a large wooden structure just outside the city.

Straining his eyes, Marcus could just make out the workmen swarming over the arena. He turned to the man. ‘What’s on the programme?’

‘Oh, the usual. Animal fights, acrobats, execution of criminals and gladiators.’ The pedlar patted his netting. ‘And plenty of customers for me!’

Festus frowned. ‘That means there won’t be any rooms. Or at least not for a reasonable rate.’

‘Perhaps we won’t need to find a room,’ said Marcus.

Lupus looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I think it’s time we made use of Caesar’s letter of introduction. We’ll go to the governor and ask for information about Decimus and his estate. At the same time we can ask for accommodation in his palace. He’s hardly likely to turn us down once he knows about the letter.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Festus replied. ‘It means we won’t be able to keep a low profile. You know what public officials are like. Anybody who is anybody will know that we’ve arrived in Athens in a matter of days.’

Marcus shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I’m tired. I’d find it hard to turn down a comfortable bed and a good meal right now.’

Festus shook his head. ‘I’d rather as few people knew we were in Athens as possible. Word might reach Decimus.’

‘If he comes looking for us, then that suits me,’ Marcus said wearily. ‘The sooner I face him and put an end to all this, the better.’

‘Use your head, Marcus. It’s a risk.’

‘Risk?’ Marcus laughed bitterly. ‘Don’t you think we’ve taken plenty of risks already? What’s one more?’

Festus saw that his young companion was too tired to think clearly. They all needed a rest, somewhere they would be safe and comfortable. Perhaps Marcus was right about approaching the governor. But Festus could not help feeling anxious about it. He let out a sigh. ‘All right. I just hope it won’t be a mistake.’

Once they had passed inside the walls the smell of the crowded city instantly reminded Marcus of Rome. The narrow streets were just as winding and covered in sewage and rubbish. Most of the people had well-worn clothes and the same pinched, hungry expressions as the poorest people in Rome. They asked for directions to the governor’s palace and were directed to an elaborate complex of buildings with ornate gardens, nestling beneath the Acropolis. The governor’s quarters were arranged round an inner courtyard and the entrance was guarded by two soldiers, standing at ease as they held their spears and shields. As Marcus led his companions up to the entrance, the guards advanced their spears and one of them addressed him loudly.

‘What’s your business here?’

‘We wish to see the governor,’ Marcus said boldly. ‘As soon as possible.’

The guard looked them over and shook his head. ‘Not possible. Caius Servillus is not in the habit of making himself available to common pedlars, even if they are Roman. Now be on your way.’

Festus stepped forward to intervene but Marcus waved him back as he gave the guard a frosty look. ‘What is your name, soldier?’

‘My name?’ The man chuckled. ‘You don’t need my name, sonny. What you need is to get lost. Now. Before my friend and I decide to box your ears.’

Marcus was not cowed by the man’s threat. ‘And you need a civil tongue in your head. I’ll ask you once again. What is your name?’

This time the guard laughed. ‘Who’s asking?’

‘Marcus Cornelius, and …’ He reached inside his tunic and brought out a leather tube. Flipping the cap, he drew out Caesar’s letter of introduction and unrolled it so that his seal was visible. ‘Caius Julius Caesar. I assume you are familiar with the name?’

The soldier’s laughter died away. He leaned forward to inspect the document. His eyes moved in the puzzled, haphazard manner of the illiterate but he was clearly impressed by the seal and the neat, official presentation. Even so, Marcus thought, he could just as easily have had Lupus knock something up and the guard would not have known any better.

‘Er, right then,’ the guard said uncertainly. ‘I’d better take you in to see one of his officials.’ He cocked a head at Lupus and Festus. ‘They with you?’

‘They are.’

The guard sighed. ‘Then all of you had better follow me. Come on.’

He turned and muttered to the other guard that he would return as soon as he could, then beckoned to Marcus and his two friends. They passed through the gatehouse into a colonnaded courtyard lined with neatly trimmed potted shrubs. Ahead lay the imposing quarters of the Roman governor of the province of Achaea, three storeys high with marble columns supporting an imposing entrance hall. The guard approached a thin man in a tunic sitting on a small bench to one side of the hall and explained the presence of the three visitors before hurrying back to his post. The governor’s servant looked at them doubtfully, until Marcus produced Caesar’s letter, and then shrugged.

‘Sirs, the governor can’t see you today. He’s at the arena, overseeing the final preparations for the spectacle.’

‘Then we’ll wait.’

‘But he won’t be back until very late. He’s attending a feast of the philosophers’ guild. Those events can go on for some time …’

Marcus clenched his jaw in frustration.

‘You could come back tomorrow,’ the servant suggested hopefully.

‘No. We’ll wait.’

The servant pursed his lips in irritation before he spoke again. ‘I could find out if his aide will see you. If you wish.’

‘Yes. That will do.’

‘Please wait here.’ The servant bowed his head and disappeared into a corridor leading off the hall.

Once he had gone Festus cleared his throat. ‘What do you intend to say to this aide of the governor?’

‘I’ll tell him why we are here and ask for accommodation, of course.’

‘Might be better to tell him no more than you need to. It is always best to keep those in the know to a small number in my experience.’

‘But if the governor’s aide is his right-hand man, then what’s the danger?’ asked Marcus.

Festus continued in a patient tone. ‘Marcus, I’ve been dealing with these people since before you were born. If there’s anything I’ve learned along the way it’s that you have to be careful who you trust with what you know.’

Marcus knew that his friend was right, but at the same time he felt driven to take short cuts to find out where his mother was held. He should trust Festus’s judgement, he told himself. Festus had never let him down. He was as wise as he was deadly and Marcus was fortunate to have him at hand. Even so, the urge to find his mother as swiftly as possible was eating away at his caution.

He heard footsteps and turned to see the servant returning with a slender man, who looked the same age as Festus. His dark hair was neatly cut and he had a finely trimmed beard along the line of his jaw, which met in a precise triangle beneath his mouth. As he approached, he smiled and held his hand out to Festus.

‘Welcome to you, and your boys! I am the personal aide to Governor Servillus. My name is Quintus Euraeus. I am at your service. First, if I may, your letter of introduction?’

Festus nodded towards Marcus. ‘Caesar entrusted the letter to this boy. He is the reason why we are in Athens. My name is Festus. Caesar sent me along to protect Marcus, and advise him.’

Euraeus’s dark eyes flitted over Marcus and then Lupus. ‘And the other boy?’

‘I am Lupus, scribe to Caesar and friend of Marcus,’ he announced proudly.

‘Indeed. Then you are all most welcome. Now, if I might see the document?’

Marcus took out the letter again and handed it to Euraeus. The aide unrolled the letter, examined the seal and quickly ran his eyes over the contents. He handed it back to Marcus with a smile. ‘It seems very comprehensive. Clearly Caesar holds you in high regard to gift you the authority to ask any favour in his name. I wonder why?’

‘I served him well. Along with my friends here,’ Marcus explained simply.

The aide waited in vain for him to elaborate, and then nodded. ‘Evidently. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me to my humble office, then let me know how I may help you.’