The Gladiator

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Macro arrived at Sempronius's office carrying with him the faint odour of the work he had been supervising in the city's sewer.

He nodded a greeting to Cato and saluted the senator, before casting a curious eye over Centurion Micon.

'Now that we're all here, take a seat.' Sempronius folded his hands together.' Then Centurion Micon can make his report. I take it you know nothing of what has happened yet, Macro?'

Macro glanced at Cato and shook his head. 'I'm not aware of anything. Apart from some shouting from the forum as I headed up here.'

'Shouting?'

'Yes. Didn't sound like they were celebrating.'

'Our friend Centurion Micon was unwise enough to break his news in the forum before he came to find me. It'll be all over Gortyna before nightfall.'

'News?' Macro frowned. 'What in Hades is going on, sir?'

'There's been a defeat. Marcellus and his column have been wiped out by the rebel slaves. Centurion Micon managed to escape. But you'd better hear it from Micon.'

'I should think so.' Macro eyed Micon coldly.' The story of how a band of slaves carved up the best part of a thousand men has got to be worth hearing.'

Sempronius leaned forward. 'Just listen.'

Macro raised his hands and leaned back as he nodded at Micon.

'Please tell us.'

Centurion Micon was unsettled by the critical tone of his superior and took a brief moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat and began.

'It happened yesterday, at dusk, thirty miles to the east of Gortyna.

As you know from Prefect Marcellus's reports, we were tracking down bands of slaves and driving them before us. All the time they were pulling back, away from Gortyna and into the hills. We were sure we had them on the run. We'd cleared them out of the plain, and once they were forced up towards the mountains, the plan was to trap them and finish them off once and for all. Marcellus was confident that the campaign would be over in less than a month.

Then, three days ago, one of our patrols captured a slave. A young lad, no more than twelve or thirteen. He was brought in and questioned, and told us that the leader of the slaves was a great gladiator who had pledged to lead the slaves to freedom or die. Our men scoffed at this, but then the boy claimed to know the gladiator, said that he was one of the gladiator's servants. That was when he realised he'd said too much and clammed up. But it was too late. The decurion in command of the patrol took the boy to Marcellus. At first he refused to talk, then the prefect called in the interrogators.' Micon paused and looked round at the other officers. 'You know how good they are at loosening tongues. Well, it took them the best part of an hour before they broke the boy. They'd beaten him badly and used heated irons, then they brought out the gouges. First sight of those did the trick. Even so, never seen guts like that in a youngster,' Centurion Micon mused.' Or a slave.'

'Please continue,' Sempronius cut in.

'Yes, sir. Anyway, the lad told us that he knew where the rebels were camped, and he would take us there if Marcellus promised that he would be sent back to his master without any further harm.

Naturally, the prefect gave his word. Marcellus sent for his officers.

He gave us wine and said he'd lead us back in triumph, herding thousands of captive slaves, while their leader was dragged behind in chains.

'The next morning he gave orders for all patrols to be called in and the men prepared for an attack on the slave camp the following night. Centurion Albinus suggested that a report be sent back to Gortyna, advising them of the attack, but Marcellus said that it would be better if we simply returned with our captives once the attack was over. Nothing is as eloquent as success — those were his words. So we set off into the hills, guided by the boy, who was tethered to Marcellus's horse. At first the going was easy, along a broad path, and even as dusk settled and it be came dark there was enough moonlight to see our way as the track narrowed and be came steeper. Then, after perhaps two or three hours, we saw a faint glow above a hill a mile off. That was the camp, the boy assured us. We continued forward more carefully and Marcellus sent scouts on ahead. All was well for a while, until we were within half a mile of the camp. Then one of the scouts came back and reported that the track passed through a narrow ravine before rising steeply up towards the top of the hill.

Marcellus was suspicious and ordered the column to halt while he questioned the boy again. The lad was adamant that it was the only way up to the camp without taking a wide detour that would mean we wouldn't reach it before daybreak. Marcellus ordered us forward again.

'The ravine was barely twenty feet across, with steep sides, too steep to climb, and we did our best to advance quietly as the sounds echoed off the rock faces on either side. Just as the head of the column began to emerge into the open, there was a sudden flaring up of light along the crests on either side. They had faggots drenched in oil, which they lit up and threw down on to us.' Micon paused again as he recalled the horror of the previous night. 'There was fire everywhere, and the faggots exploded into blazing fragments all around us. The horses panicked and ran into each other and trampled the infantry. By the light of the flames the enemy — the slaves, I mean — started to roll boulders down on to us. Boulders, and also logs into which they had driven iron spikes and hooks. It was carnage, sir.

Marcellus was one of the first to be struck down, but not before he'd drawn his sword and cut the boy's throat. That was the really terrible thing. The lad just stood there and laughed as it happened. He spat into Marcellus's face before he died. An instant later, the prefect was crushed by one of the logs. Killed outright. There was no one in command, and some men charged forward to get out of the trap.

Others turned back, and some just huddled under whatever shelter they could find.'

'And what did you do?' asked Macro.

'I turned back,' Centurion Micon confessed. 'What else could I do? I called what was left of my men to me and we rode back through the column the way we had come. Only the slaves had closed that off, throwing abatis across the track. Some of our men tried to clear them away, but they had slingers on either flank and our men went down like flies. But they opened a gap, and I charged my men through it.' Micon glanced at the other officers furtively. 'We went after the slingers, to give the others a chance to clear the rest of the barricade away and make good their escape. But that's when the spearmen came up out of the ground. They'd been lying down behind the slingers, and as soon as we charged up, the slingers melted away and we rode straight on to their pikes. I turned away, after the last of my men was cut down, and rode back down the track towards the plain, breaking through a handful of slaves covering the track. I didn't stop until I had put the best part of a mile between us. Then when I did rein in, I looked back and saw the flames glowing in the ravine. I can still hear the cries and screams of our men echoing off the rocks. The slave spearmen formed up at the edge of the ravine, and slaughtered every one of our men caught in their trap.'

Centurion Micon lowered his head.' The column didn't stand a chance, sir. I didn't know what to do… Charge back into the fight, or do my duty and report back to you.'

'So you decided to save your skin,' Macro snorted. 'Instead of going to the aid of your comrades. Typical bloody auxiliary.'

Cato leaned forward. 'There was nothing Centurion Micon could do.'

'He could have died like a soldier, and not run like a bloody whipped cur and abandoned his mates.'

'Then who would have been left to make his report to us?'

Macro sucked a breath in through his teeth. In the legions, it was a dyed-in-the-wool tradition that centurions never gave an inch in battle. Clearly a different standard applied in the auxiliary cohorts.

'Well, surely he could have found some one to ride back and break the news.'

Sempronius rapped his hand on the desk.' Enough! This is not getting us anywhere. The question is what do we do now? This defeat has changed everything at a stroke. Marcellus had the best of our men, and now he's thrown them away. All we have left are a few small detachments on the north of the island, the Tenth Macedonian, and the cohort at Matala. What's that? Six hundred men at most.'

Sempronius shook his head.' How the hell could these wretched slaves have done this to us? How could they have defeated trained soldiers? I underestimated the slaves, and this gladiator who is leading them.'

Cato kept his mouth shut and fought back a surge of anger and indignation. It was the senator's responsibility for not taking the slave threat seriously enough. Cato, and Macro to a lesser extent, had both been aware of the dangers, but their concerns had been dismissed. It was tempting to exact some recognition of who should bear the blame, but now was not the time. Any bitter divisions amongst those left in charge of the province would only make their perilous situation worse.

'So,' Sempronius continued, looking at Macro and Cato, 'you're the ones with military experience. What should we do?'

'What can we do?' Macro answered coldly. 'It seems we're outnumbered, outwitted and we've been given a good kicking. Best thing to do is send for help and hold out here until it arrives.'

Sempronius did not appear to like what he had heard and turned to Cato. 'And what do you think?'

'Macro's right, sir. With so few men, we have no choice. It would be madness to send what's left against the slaves. Gortyna must be defended.'

'Defended?' Sempronius raised his eyebrows.' How? There must be twenty or thirty breaches in the walls where the earthquake shook them down.'

'That's true enough, sir. But we have to repair them before the slaves take it into their heads to march on Gortyna.'

'Do you really think they will?'

'I would, if I was in their place. Now they have us at their mercy, they can make their demands, or threaten to wipe us out.'

'Then we have to fix the walls, at once.'

Macro shook his head. 'That's not possible, sir. The damage is too great. Even if we set every man, woman and child to work repairing the breaches, it would take us too many days to do it.'

Cato thought a moment.' Then we must abandon Gortyna. We have to bring everyone up here on to the acropolis.'

'Is there room for everyone?' asked Sempronius. 'There are over fifteen thousand people out there. The conditions would be appalling.'

Cato looked at him directly. 'They either come up here, or take their chances with the slaves.'

'What about Matala?' Macro interrupted. 'We could send some of them there. If they left now, they could reach the port before this slave army moves in from the east.'

'No. It's too risky. The slaves might already have patrols out in the surrounding countryside. We'd need to send a strong detachment to protect the civilians. We need every man here, to defend the province's capital.' Cato paused. 'However, we have to send a warning to Centurion Portillus and tell him what has happened. He'll need to protect the people of Matala. It would be best if he was ordered to move them up inside the acropolis there as well.'

Sempronius sagged back in his chair.' My gods, these slaves have us on the run. They'll have us trapped like rats in a hole. When Rome hears of this, I'm finished.'

Cato cleared his throat and spoke softly. 'If we don't do what we can to save what's left, then we risk losing the entire province, sir. That's something the emperor would never forgive.' He let his words sink in and then continued.' The thing is, we were never supposed to be here in the first place. It was just blind chance that our ship was passing when the wave struck.'

'So?'

'So I don't see how you can be called to account. The situation could hardly have been worse, and you've done all you can to restore order.'

'Kind words, Cato, but I doubt the emperor will agree with you.

Regardless of what we might have achieved, we are the ones he will hold responsible if these slaves succeed in humbling Roman interests.'

Macro puffed his cheeks.' Then you're going to have to bloody do something about it — sir.'

'Do?' Sempronius said helplessly. 'What can I do?'

'Get more men. More soldiers.'

'How? I can't just conjure them out of thin air.'

'Get them from Egypt,' Macro said tersely. 'You said that you know the emperor's legate there, right? Gaius Petronius. He's a member of the equestrian class.'

Sempronius nodded.

'And you're a senator. So you outrank him. Order him to send reinforcements.'

Sempronius considered this for a moment before responding.

'And if he doesn't?'

'Then you must tell him that if Crete falls to the slaves you will make damn sure that Rome knows that you asked him for help and he refused. You won't be the only one who draws down the emperor's wrath.' Macro forced a smile. 'I can't see him turning down the chance to avoid being in Claudius's bad books.'

'Macro's right, sir,' said Cato. 'You have nothing to lose from pressing the Egyptian legate for help. If you head to the coast and take the first available ship, you could be in Alexandria in a matter of days, and back here with the reinforcements inside a month. If you can get enough men, I'm sure we can quickly crush the revolt.'

'You think it's that easy?' Macro glanced at him in surprise.

'Why not? As long as we don't follow the example of Marcellus.'

Sempronius cleared his throat.' I 'm not leaving Gortyna. It's out of the question.'

'Why?' Cato stared at him.

'Think about it, Cato. The slaves have annihilated most of our forces and have the province at their mercy. Just at that point the acting governor decides to quit Crete for the safety of Egypt to fetch reinforcements, while his subordinates and thousands of civilians are left to face the rebels. It's not the most edifying display of leadership, is it?'

'That's for others to say, sir. You have to put that possibility aside for the moment. You have to go to Egypt. You know the legate. Only some one with your authority can persuade Petronius to send reinforcements.'

'That's true,' Sempronius conceded, and nodded slowly as he contemplated the problem. Then a smile formed on his lips and he looked up at his officers.' Of course, if I was to send some one in my place, authorised to act on my behalf, then we might get our way.

Obviously, the person in question would have to be up to the task of talking the legate round.'

At the same moment both the senator and Macro fixed their eyes on Cato. With a sudden surge of alarm, Cato sat back and shook his head.' No. Not me.'

'Why not?' asked Sempronius.

'I'm too young,' Cato admitted.' The legate would take one look at me and wonder if he could take me seriously as a centurion, let alone the envoy of the governor of Crete. Send Macro.'

'What?' Macro started, and then glared at Cato. 'Thanks.'

Sempronius smiled briefly. 'With all due respect to his abilities as a politician, Macro's talents are best utilised in defence of Gortyna.

The man I need in Alexandria has to be a powerful advocate for our request for reinforcements. I think you are that man.'

'Yes,' Macro added with a smirk. 'I know you, lad. You could argue the hind leg off a donkey, and then debate the moral justification for doing it. The senator's right, it has to be you.'

Cato felt the situation slipping out of his control and made one last attempt to protest. 'Sir, please reconsider. I'm one of the most junior centurions in the army. Even if Petronius accepts my arguments, he's hardly going to entrust me with a force large enough to crush the slaves.'

'Then I will just have to promote you,' Sempronius decided.

'Temporarily, of course. For the duration of the emergency'

'Promote me?' Cato was stunned by the idea, until he realised it made sense. Up to a point. 'If I go in as a prefect, then it will look even more ridiculous than me holding the rank of centurion, sir.

Besides, the Legate of Egypt would still have seniority.'

'Who said anything about being a prefect? I'm sending you to Egypt with the civil rank of tribune.'

'Tribune?' Now Cato was truly shocked. The tribunate was largely an honorific title in Rome, but was still occasionally conferred upon officials sent out to the provinces to act with the authority of the emperor and his senate. Cato gently chewed his lip.' Can you do that?'

'I am the acting governor of this province, having assumed authority in the emperor's name. It's worked so far. And, as you said, what have I got to lose? I'll draw up the document, and seal it with the governor's ring. In fact, you'd better take my family ring with you to prove that I sent you. That, and your quick wits, will carry the argument.'

'They'll have to,' Macro added. 'Otherwise we're all in the shit.'

'Quite,' said Sempronius. 'If we win the day, then I'll just have to hope the emperor overlooks the fact that I've overstepped the mark in conferring the rank on you.'

Cato smiled bitterly. 'And if he doesn't, then I'll be had up for acting without proper authority. Men have been condemned for treason for doing such things. I think I'd rather stay here and face the slaves.'

'Then you're dead either way' Sempronius shrugged. 'What have you got to lose?'

Cato's shoulders drooped in resignation. 'All right, then. I'll go.'

'Good man!' Macro slapped him on the back. 'Get to Alexandria, and find us those men. And don't go and fuck it up.'

'Thanks for the encouragement.'

'You're welcome.' Macro grinned. 'Anyway, you've got it easy. It's us who'll be having to cope with those slaves and that gladiator they've got leading them. Which reminds me.' He turned to Centurion Micon, who had been keeping as still and as quiet as possible during the preceding discussion, no doubt hoping that invisibility was his best hope in escaping the shame of fleeing the battlefield that had claimed the lives of his commander and all but a handful of his men. He wilted before Macro's gaze.

'Sir?'

'This gladiator. Did that boy you captured mention his name?'

Yes, yes, he did, sir.' Micon nodded.' He said he was a Thracian, called Ajax.'

'Ajax?' Macro scratched his chin, and then his fingers froze as his eyes suddenly widened. 'Ajax!' He turned to Cato. 'What do you think? Is it possible?'

'Do es the name mean something to you?' asked the senator.

'It does. At least I think it does. The man I saw recognised me, I'm certain of it. But there's only one Ajax I can recall meeting, and it's hard to believe it can be the same man.'

Cato took a deep breath. 'If it is, and he knows that we're on the island, then we're in even more danger than I thought. Ajax won't rest until he's had his full measure of revenge.'

'Revenge?' Sempronius hissed with frustration. 'Would you mind telling me what's going on? Who is this Ajax, and what has he got against you?'

'It's a long story,' said Macro. 'But he has his reasons for hating us.

His father used to commanda pirate fleet operating out of the coast of Illyria. Until Cato and I put paid to his activities. We captured Ajax, his father and most of the pirates. We had orders to make an example of them.' He shrugged. 'Cato and I were the ones who crucified his father and had Ajax sold into slavery.'