The Gladiator

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ajax, in the company of Kharim, watched the progress of his envoy carefully. Chilo had proved himself brave enough since he had joined the small band of fugitives that had attached themselves to Ajax since the first days of the revolt. But there was a certain carelessness to his bravery that Ajax had noted during the very first skirmish they had fought with a Roman patrol. It was almost as if Chilo had no fear of death, even as he loved his new life, free from the terrible constraints of slavery. In the ranks of Ajax's closest lieutenants, Chilo was clearly the most popular with the rest of the army. Chilo had been born free, the son of an Athe nian merchant. When his father's business partner disappeared with every last piece of silver just before the annual taxes were due to be paid, it had ruined the family. The tax collector, as was his right, had duly compelled the merchant to sell himself and his family into slavery. Chilo had been five at the time, and was separated from his family at the slave market when he was bought by a Roman official and sent to serve as a household slave on his estate in Crete.

All this Ajax had learned over the camp fire as he led his growing band of runaway slaves across the ruined province. But of his years of servitude Chilo had said little, and when he did speak of them his eyes burned with an intense hatred — a sentiment that Ajax could readily understand. He had long since come to understand the difference between men who were born slaves and those who had be come slaves. There was a degree of acceptance of their condition in the former. They had joined his army to be sure, and fought well enough, but the majority lacked the fanaticism of Chilo and the others who had borne slavery as a mark of shame. Every slight and injustice that they endured had burned its way into their souls. It was like a slow poison, Ajax had realised once, when reflecting on his own experience.

His father had commandeda small fleet of pirate ships that had defied the Roman navy for many years before they had finally been trapped and destroyed in a bay on the Illyrian coast. His father had paid the price for defying Rome by being crucified. Ajax and the others who had been captured were sold into slavery. It was ironic that he had been bought by the owner of a gladiator school and trained as a fighter, and now he was repaying his former masters for the skills he had learned in the arena by causing them as much suffering as possible. Every Roman he killed, every estate he sacked and every breath of free air that he drew slowly drained away the poison of slavery.

The only concern that troubled his mind was the uncertainty of the future. He had not remotely considered attempting to launch a revolt when he had made his escape from the governor's palace following the earthquake. There had been only the innate desire to run, to be free, to escape from Crete and find his way to some quiet corner of the world where the stain of slavery could gradually be erased. He had been with the governor's wife when the building began to tremble, amid the grumbling roar as Poseidon brought down his wrath on the island. They were in one of the storerooms off the back of the kitchens, where she had summoned him. Antonia had been leaning against the wall, with him inside her, while her long nails and bejewelled rings had raked the flesh of his back. As the walls shook, she screamed and thrust him away, and in that moment Ajax had resolved to be free. Free of her, free of the indignity of being her sexual play thing and free of slavery. One blow to her head had knocked her cold. Lifting her fleshy body into his arms, Ajax had left the collapsing palace, fleeing from the governor's compound into the streets, no one paying any attention to a man helping a stricken woman to safety.

Once he had escaped from the city, Ajax had been tempted to finish Antonia off. To strangle her, or crush her skull with a rock.

Then, as he considered his revenge, it occurred to him that she should suffer as he had suffered. She would come to know the shame of being a slave before she was allowed to die. So, hands bound, and a leather collar and lead fixed about her neck, the fat patrician woman had been dragged along with her captor as he sought refuge in the hills behind Gortyna. Ajax was far from the only slave seeking refuge. On the first night of his new-found freedom, he came across several ragged men and women who had escaped from one of the estates. They welcomed him to their fire, shared their food and within a day looked to him as their leader. They too had wanted to kill Antonia, and Ajax had been tempted to let them, but in the end decided that she had not suffered enough just yet.

Other slaves, singly and in groups and larger bands, swelled his ranks, bringing with them a handful of other men with gladiatorial experience, even a few ex-soldiers who had fallen on bad times or been condemned to slavery. These he set to work training the slaves to fight. Initially there had been few weapons, but they had improvised by tying knives to staves, using pitchforks and scythes, and eagerly snatching up any swords and spears that they came by in the estates and villages they had started to raid.

At first Ajax was content to lead the slaves only until he had satisfied his need for revenge, and then he would carry out his original plan to leave the island and find a home far from the eyes of his former masters. But the more the escaped slaves looked to him to lead them, and the more it be came clear that they were devoted to him, the less inclined he was to desert them. There was a bond of loyalty between them, he realised and accepted. A quality that he had not experienced in the years he had been a slave.

If he could not leave them, then it was his duty to see that they were saved from being returned to the living death of their former condition. Gathering the best men around him, Ajax made each the commander of a band of slaves. They were to be responsible for showing their men how to use weapons, how to take up position in simple formations and also for organising the distribution of rations and spoils. From the outset Ajax had made it clear that any food that was captured was the property of all. He addressed the ragtag mob from the top of a broken wall and told them that he would lead any who accepted his rules. He promised them that they would have revenge on their masters, and that he would lead them to freedom.

Only a handful of bitter or timid spirits had refused his conditions and left the rebel camp. The crowd that remained clamoured to fight their former masters to the death.

The first of their fights had been against a small Roman foraging column that had ventured out from Matala. Despite the heavy losses, Ajax had been impressed by the fearlessness with which his rebels had charged the spears and shields of the Roman troops. Later their courage had been repaid with the destruction of the column that had arrogantly allowed itself to be led into an ambush. And then, only three days ago, they had achieved an even greater success. Ajax smiled. One which he would relish telling these Romans about, provided they had the guts to emerge from their defences and speak with him.

'Look there!' Kharim nodded towards the city. 'It seems that the Romans are falling for Chilo's charms.'

Ajax stared towards Gortyna, and saw one of the doors in the gatehouse begin to open. Several figures emerged, auxiliaries. They trotted out and formed a skirmish line a short distance in front of the gatehouse. A moment later two more men emerged, and took up position behind the soldiers. Chilo, alerted to their appearance, turned his horse and trotted towards them, reining in right in front of the nearest enemy soldier, who nervously backed off a few paces.

There was a brief exchange of words before Chilo wheeled his mount and galloped back towards Ajax and his companions.

Dusk was settling over the plain as he drew up, scattering dust and stones.

'General,' he grinned. 'It seems they're willing to talk.'

'Talk?' Ajax responded disdainfully.' Oh yes, they'll talk all right. But will they listen?'

'If they want to live then they'll listen,' Kharim said quietly

'Do you want me to bring the wagon forward?'

Ajax nodded. 'Keep the cover on, and keep it back fifty paces.'

'Yes, General.'

Kharim wheeled his mount away and galloped back towards the baggage train. Ajax took a deep breath and waved at Chilo to ride with him. The six men, all ex-gladiators, whom he had chosen for his bodyguard, eased their mounts into a trot and followed their leader, warily watching the waiting Romans for any sign of treachery. Ajax was under no illusions about the possibility that the enemy might not abide by the usual rules of parley. He reined in beyond javelin range of the Roman skirmishers and halted his men.

'Chilo, you and the others stay here. If they play any tricks, then come for me.'

'General, you can't trust them. Make them come to us.'

'No, I want them to see I am not afraid.' Ajax clicked his tongue and edged his horse forwards. 'You stay put, Chilo. That is an order. When Kharim brings the wagon up, I want you to have it halted behind my bodyguards.'

'Yes, General.'

Ajax walked his horse across the open ground at an easy pace. The men ahead of him were clearly visible in the rays of the setting sun, washed in the same red hue that burnished the scrub grass and stones outside the city. The auxiliaries were squinting into the light, some having grounded their spears to shade their eyes. He knew that he would appear as a dark silhouette to them, seemingly larger than life and threatening as he approached. It might make him a clearer target, but any Roman attempting to hurl a javelin, or even a spear, would be forced to squint, and their aim was sure to be spoiled. He stopped twenty paces from the nearest of the auxiliaries. The horse snorted and pawed the dusty ground with its hooves.

'Who are you?' A man called out from behind the Roman line.

'Ajax, general of the army of free men.' He swept his arm back towards the host making camp for the night. 'I am here to state our demands. To the governor in person. To his minion, if the governor is toofearful to speak with me.'

'I am not afraid,' the man responded haughtily.' Not of you, nor your band of rebels.'

'Then prove it! Come forward and face me.' Ajax thrust his arm down, pointing at the ground. 'Here, beyond the protection, of your men.'

The two figures standing behind the skirmishers strode boldly towards him, passing through their men and drawing up ten feet away One wore armour, a scarlet cloak and a helmet, and he hefted his centurion's vine cane as he scrutinised the commander of the slave army. Ajax felt a cold chill tickle his neck. He recognised the face. This was the officer who had led the foraging column. But he had seen him before, somewhere else, he was certain of it, yet for the present could not place him. He turned his attention to the other Roman, who was taller and wore a white tunic with a broad red stripe. He crossed his arms as he drew himself up to his full height to confront Ajax.

'Say your piece, slave.'

Ajax bit back on his irritation. 'I no longer count myself a slave, nor do any of the men and women in my army'

'Army? That is no army. Merely a rabble.'

Ajax could not help smiling. 'That rabble slaughtered a thousand of your best men, Sempronius.'

The Roman clamped his lips together.

'Besides,' Ajax continued, 'my army now controls most of southern Crete. We go where we will, while you Romans hide behind your defences and pray for deliverance. But your gods have deserted you. There is nothing that stands between you and certain death, except me.'

'I see, you've come to save us,' Sempronius sneered.

'I have come to offer you a chance to save your lives and the lives of every man, woman and child inside the walls of Gortyna.'

'And how can I save them?'

'By giving us our freedom and by ensuring that we are given free passage from this island to the eastern frontier of the empire.'

Sempronius chuckled bitterly. 'Is that all?'

'It is a fair exchange for your lives, wouldn't you say?'

'No. It is out of the question. I don't have the authority to do that.'

'But you are the governor. You act in the name of the emperor and the senate. You could grant us freedom.'

'What's the point?' Sempronius sneered. 'I thought you said you were no longer slaves.'

'I want it in writing, ' Ajax said firmly. 'I want it guaranteed in the name of Rome.'

'Why?' Sempronius insisted. 'What difference does it make?'

Ajax smiled. 'I know what sticklers you people are for paperwork. I want our freedom to be official.'

Sempronius was silent for a moment. 'You want to rub our noses in it, you mean. This is about revenge.'

'Yes…' The image of his father nailed to a crossbeam and left to die appeared in Ajax's mind — raw and painful. 'I deserve revenge for the suffering I have endured at the hands of your people. So do all those who now follow me. Your emperor should count himself lucky that my demands are so modest.'

'But you must know that Claudius could not possibly concede to this. The senate would not stand for it. Nor would the mob. If he gave in to the demands of a common slave the mob would tear him to pieces.'

'I think you will find that I was a most uncommon slave, Governor,' Ajax said tersely. 'Otherwise we would not be here.'

'All right, then. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I agree to your demand. What makes you think that any other Roman official will honour it? In any case, you have no means of finding sufficient ships to carry your people away from Crete. How do you think you will be able to compel Rome to keep to her side of the bargain?'

'It's simple. I will take you, and every Roman, and the city's leading families as hostages. You will come with us every step of the way. When we reach the frontier, and not before, we will release you. If the emperor, or any of his subordinates, attempts to hinder us, then I will start killing my prisoners, beginning with you.'

Sempronius took a sharp breath. 'That won't work. I've told you, Rome cannot agree to your demands.'

'Then it is up to you to persuade the emperor. I take it you were trained in rhetoric as a youth. No doubt by some expensive Greek slave. Now's the chance to put your skills to good use. Your life depends on it.'

'This is absurd. I cannot accept your demands. You know it.'

Sempronius paused and drew a deep breath. 'Now, let me tell you what my demands are. One: you lay down your arms and surrender.

Two: you identify all the ringleaders to me. Three: all other slaves are to return to their owners at once. In return, I will send you and the other ringleaders to Rome to be sentenced before the emperor and the senate. Furthermore I will do all that is within my legal power to limit the punishment of the slaves who freely return to their masters.'

Ajax stared at the Roman with a cold expression. He had expected such disdain from Sempronius, and a refusal of his demands.

It was time to demonstrate to these Romans that their danger was very real.

'Senator, your demands are no more acceptable than mine. Yet the difference between us is that you are in no position to make demands.' Ajax turned in the saddle and called back towards his men.

'Chilo! Bring the wagon here!'

The line of horsemen parted and four oxen trudged forward, drawing a heavy covered wagon behind them. A driver sat on the bench, with another man who was covered in filth. His tunic was in tatters, exposing skin that was streaked with grime and blood, and marked with cuts and bruises. He was chained to the wagon by his hands and ankles and his head was bowed.

'What's this?' asked Sempronius.

Ajax turned back. 'I suspect you have been won de ring why we did not advance on Gortyna immediately after the ambush. The answer is in the wagon. You see, my army bypassed Gortyna during the night eight days ago. We made for Matala instead. The commander of the garrison there proved every bit as arrogant as you, Sempronius. He managed to herd most of his people on to the acropolis. Those that remained in the refugee camp we put to the sword. I sent a messenger to the gate to demand the surrender of the acropolis. I told your Centurion Portillus that I wanted the food on the acropolis, not him and his people. When he surrendered, they could all go free. If he did not submit within two days, then I would take the acropolis and slaughter every person inside its walls.

I am glad to say that Portillus saw reason, and surrendered the very next day.' Ajax paused as the wagon rumbled up, turned to one side and halted behind him. He caught a waft of death and decay and heard the buzzing drone of flies as he continued. 'Sadly, as far as the people of Matala are concerned, it was necessary for me to make an example of them in order that you would believe me when I came here to make my demands to you.'

'What have you done?' asked the centurion behind Sempronius.

'I did what was necessary. I had the garrison and townspeople marched out of the city and then I told my men to kill them.'

Sempronius shook his head. 'You're lying.'

'Yes, I thought that would be the reaction. So I brought proof.

Chilo, remove the cover.'

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Chilo edged his horse towards the side of the wagon and grasped one corner of the cover. With a savage heave, he wrenched it away and let it fall to the ground.

A swirling mass of insects rose into the evening air. Sempronius covered his mouth with a hand and stepped back. The nearest of the auxiliaries squinted at the contents of the wagon and then turned to one side to vomit. Ajax watched their reactions with quiet satisfaction as they gazed upon the severed heads heaped on the bed of the wagon.

'That is what is left of the soldiers of the Twelfth Hispania. The rest we left out for the carrion and the dogs.' Ajax turned to the driver of the wagon and pointed at the man chained beside him.

'Release him! Then leave the wagon and get back to the camp.'

'Yes, General,' the driver replied and then ducked down to release the pins that fastened the shackles to the wagon. As soon as he had done that, he roughly pushed the man off the bench and he tumbled on to the ground beside the wagon with a thud and lay there groaning.

'Get up!' Ajax ordered. Chilo leaned down from his saddle and grasped the prisoner's hair and hauled him to his feet. With a thrust from Chilo's boot, the man stumbled towards Ajax and the two Romans.

'You may not recognise him now,' Ajax stared at the men in contempt, 'but I believe you know Centurion Portillus, lately the commander of the garrison of Matala. I thought I might spare him so that he could confirm what I have told you. Here, Senator, the prisoner is yours.'

Chilo goaded Portillus towards Sempronius, who could not help recoiling at the soiled, stinking creature that confronted him. The senator swallowed and forced himself to control his voice as he addressed Portillus.

'Is it true?'

'Yes, sir,' Portillus mumbled, barely able to meet his superior's eye.

'Are they all dead?'

'Yes, sir.' The centurion's voice quavered. 'I saw them die. All my men. All the civilians, every last one of them, even the infants.'

'I see.' Sempronius glared at him. 'And is it true that you surrendered without a fight?'

'We had no choice,' Portillus protested.' They threatened to put us to the sword. You heard.'

'It seems they did it anyway.' Sempronius's expression be came severe. 'You have disgraced yourself.'

'Don't be too hard on him,' Ajax intervened. 'I betrayed him in turn. He wasn't to know '

'Wasn't to know what?' Sempronius spat back. 'That you should never trust the word of a slave?'

'What does my word matter? Or yours?' Ajax paused a moment.

'All that matters is that you know what the consequences are if you refuse to meet my demands. For the last time, Senator. You will surrender Gortyna to me. If you do not, then you and everyone else will share the fate of the people of Matala. You have until noon tomorrow to decide.'

He turned his horse towards the camp, then paused and turned back, gesturing at Portillus. 'I return this man to you. I have no further need of him.'

Sempronius looked briefly at Centurion Portillus and then cleared his throat. 'I don't want him. Neither I nor my men will be contaminated by his cowardice.'

Ajax shrugged. 'So be it. Chilo!'

'Yes, General?'

'Finish him.'

Chilo nodded and dismounted. He pulled out a broad-bladed dagger from his belt and advanced on Portillus with a cruel smile.

The latter's eyes widened in terror and he lurched towards Sempronius, the chains causing him to tumble to his knees.

'Spare me! For pity's sake, don't let him!'

Sempronius stepped back nimbly. 'Don't you dare beg me, you cur!'

Chilo stood behind Portillus and grasped him under the chin with one hand, and before Portillus could make more than a strangled whimper, the blade slashed across his throat. A great rush of blood spurted out and splashed on the ground. Chilo released his grip and stepped back. For a moment Portillus frantically clasped his hands to his throat, then he slumped back and rolled on to his side, his body trembling as he bled out.

Chilo wiped the blade on his tunic.

'Bastard,' the centurion who had accompanied Sempronius growled. He drew his sword and stepped forward.

'Put that sword away!' Sempronius shouted.

The centurion ignored him and advanced towards Chilo. 'Let's see how good you are against a man who can fight back!'

'Leave him!' Sempronius grabbed the officer's shoulder. 'I gave you an order, Centurion Macro! Leave him.'

Ajax froze. He was still for an instant, then twisted round in his saddle and stared at the Roman officer. 'Macro? Centurion Macro?'

His heart was filled with a rush of emotions. Bitter hatred, rage and a strange joyful exultation. His limbs trembled with excitement and there was an almost inhuman desire to throw himself on Macro and tear the Roman to pieces. Blood pounded through his veins as he raised his hands, fingers clawed, as if he would wring the other man's neck. Then the moment passed, and self-control struggled to control his thoughts. Not now. Not while there were higher stakes.

'Ajax, the pirate's son.' Macro nodded slowly, sword raised and braced to defend himself against any sudden attack. 'You remember me, then?'

There was a keening groan in Ajax's throat as he fought to restrain his rage.

'I remember you well enough, lad,' Macro continued. 'And I remember your father. When this is over, you'll share his fate. By the gods, I swear it… Unless you want to fight me now. Come on!' He raised his sword.' Man to man.'

Ajax was breathing deeply. His senses were heightened to a feverish pitch of sound, sight and smell, just as they always were in the arena when the signal to fight was given. Slowly, slowly he forced himself to calm his desire to hurl himself at Macro. Instead he eased his sword hand to his side, and sat erect, still staring fixedly at the Roman.

'We will have our fight, Centurion. Not here, not now. But the time will come. No god, no fate, no person would deny me the right to kill you with my own hands.'

Ajax abruptly turned his horse away and kicked his heels in, galloping back towards his army. His heart was filled with overwhelming resolve. When Macro was defeated, he would learn what it meant to die in the most humiliating, agonising manner, just as Ajax's father had done.