The Gladiator

CHAPTER EIGHT

Macro mopped his brow and squinted up at the midday sun blazing in the clear sky. From the gatehouse of the acropolis he could see the teams of auxiliaries working amid the ruins, carefully searching for survivors beneath the rubble. Once they had been located, the long process of digging them out began. Some were found easily enough, but many were trapped under several feet of masonry and had suffered terrible injuries. Still, he conceded, Portillus and his men were proceeding in a methodical manner as they worked their way across the city towards the gorge that led to the port. A number of slaves worked alongside the soldiers; those who had chosen to remain after the earthquake. Most of the surviving slaves had taken the chance to run away. They would be recovered in due course, and punished, Macro reflected. Many slaves were branded and would find it hard to blend in amongst those who were free. Their only other choice was to hide in the wilderness, a precarious existence that had few attractions over slavery.

On the slope outside of Matala the goatskin tents from the auxiliary cohort's stores had been set up, and several hundred people were now sheltering from the sun in their shade. There were still another two thousand people who had lost their homes and had to make do with sleeping in the open, or finding what shelter they could in the clumps of trees that grew higher up the slope. There was a stream up there, and a plentiful supply of water flowed from the mountains that formed the spine of the island. Macro could see a number of townspeople carrying full skins and amphorae back to the tents, and at the base of a small waterfall near the top of the hill a handful of children were splashing happily in the glittering silver cascade.

Even though they had a good supply of water, the most pressing problem was food. It had been three days since he had taken command of the cohort, and at once it was clear that the port was desperately short of supplies. A small amount had been gleaned from the estates of Canlius and the ruins of Matala and added to the meagre reserves in the acropolis. Macro had been forced to issue an edict that any private stocks of food must be surrendered to the cohort. From there a daily ration would be issued to the survivors.

Those who were caught hoarding food, or dealing food in the black market, would be denied rations and banished from the city and its environs. If they attempted to sneak back in and were caught then they would be locked into one of the cisterns, which Macro had chosen for a temporary prison. The last item on the edict warned that those who were caught attempting to steal food from the cohort's stores would be summarily executed.

There had been protests when the edict had been read out in the camp, and the mob had readily accepted a mouthpiece in the form of the father of the merchants' guild, a stocky individual named Atticus, who could have passed for Macro's brother, if he had had one. Macro held firm in the face of the protests and raised his hands to calm the crowd, and when that had not worked he drew his sword and rapped it sharply on the rim of one of his men's shields. When the last angry murmur had died away, he drew a deep breath and pointed at Atticus.

'I don't care what you think. We must ration what food we have, or people will starve. Once the food supply to the town is restored, then things can return to normal. Until then we must have discipline, and patience.'

Atticus snorted. 'And you would have us believe that you and your men don't take more than your fair share, I suppose?'

'I will see to it that the food is fairly shared,' Macro replied in his parade-ground voice, so that all might hear him. 'Priority will go to those who are helping to find survivors and supplies in the ruins, and those who are responsible for ensuring order.'

'Ha!'Atticus raised his hands and clapped. 'I knew it. The army takes care of its own and damn the rest of us! Well, Centurion, we won't stand for it.' He turned to address the crowd. 'I say we keep whatever food we have for ourselves! Let the soldiers fend for themselves!'

The mob cheered his words and Atticus milked his support for a while, pumping his fists in the air, before crossing his arms and turning back to Macro with a smile.

'Quiet!' Macro bellowed.' QUIET, I SAID!'

But this time there was no response from the crowd, who continued to jeer and whistle and shake their fists.

At length Macro gave up and turned to the twenty men he had brought with him to lend force to his authority. 'Let 'em hear it, lads!'

The soldiers drew their swords and began to pound the inside of their shields, filling the air with a deafening drumming that drowned out the din of the crowd. Gradually they fell quiet and Macro gave the order for his men to still their weapons.

'That's better. Now then, I have told you how I intend to run things, and it will be so. I will not tolerate any attempts to undermine my authority as acting prefect of the cohort. If anyone wishes to increase their rations then they will have to work for it by helping the cohort's work parties searching the ruins. In addition, I could use more men to replace those lost in the disaster. If there are any men out there with previous military experience then they may apply to enlist at the acropolis.'

'Don't do it!'Atticus called out to the crowd. 'Don't betray the rest of us. If we stand up against this bully, then there's nothing he can do!'

'Right!' Macro clicked his fingers. 'That does it. First section! Arrest that man, at the double!'

Atticus's mouth opened in surprise, but before he could react, the auxiliaries had surrounded him and two of them sheathed their swords and pinned his arms behind his back. He struggled uselessly for a moment while the crowd began to protest angrily. Macro kept his calm and gave the order for his men to march back to the acropolis, pursued by the jeers and insults of the mob. He took up position beside Atticus and the men holding him.

'This wouldn't be necessary if you had been a good boy and kept your mouth shut.'

Atticus sneered. 'That's what all tyrants say.'

'Tyrant?' Macro pursed his lips.' Me? No, I'm just a soldier trying to do his job, and you, mate, are a loudmouth pain in the arse. So spare me any comments about freedom and tyranny. You can save it for when this is all over.'

Atticus glared at him. You have me now, Centurion, but there will be a reckoning one day.'

'Sure.' Macro nodded. 'I'll make a note of it.'

'I'll have you!' Atticus spat. 'You pig!'

Macro suddenly lashed out with a clenched fist, striking Atticus squarely on the temple. With a grunt, he collapsed into the grip of the soldiers on either side. Macro shrugged. 'So much for tyranny. Get him to the cistern, and make sure no harm comes to him on the way. He can stay there for a couple of days to cool off before we let him go.'

The small column of soldiers picked their way along the main street and back to the acropolis. Macro saw that Julia was standing by the gate as they marched up the ramp. He had sent some men into the town to find some clothes for her amongst the ruins and she was wearing a pale blue tunic that reached down to her ankles. Macro bowed his head in greeting.

'Morning, miss. Had a good night's sleep?'

Yes thank you.' She smiled briefly. 'Is there any word from Gortyna?'

'Not yet. I sent a message yesterday. We should get a reply by nightfall. Should put your mind at rest.'

'I hope so.' Julia pulled at a strand of her dark hair. 'It's hard not to worry about my father and Cato. I'm sure that Cato would have sent word as soon as he could to say that they were safe.'

'If the situation here is anything to go by then I expect they're up to their necks in it over at Gortyna. But I'm sure they'll send news the first moment that they can. Don't fret, Miss Julia. Your dad's a tough one, and Cato's as smart as new paint. They'll be fine, trust me.'

Julia nodded a little uncertainly and was silent for a moment before she continued.' How long do you think we'll be here?'

Macro stepped aside from the column of soldiers and undid the strap of his helmet before removing it and wiping his brow. 'Difficult to say. There's plenty of shipping that puts into Crete, so word of what has happened here will reach Rome soon enough.'

'I haven't noticed any new ships in the port since we arrived.'

'True,' Macro conceded. 'That wave must have had a wide effect.

It's possible that it did for the ships close to the island. Perhaps there will be others who have heard the news and are wary of landing in Crete. But some one will put into one of the island's ports sooner or later. They'll get the story, and carry it onwards to Rome. Once the emperor grasps the scale of the damage that's been done here, then he'll be sure to send help.'

'Help? What kind of help?'

'Troops, food, and a replacement governor as soon as he appoints one. When they arrive, then your father and the rest of us can leave, and take the first ship back to Rome.'

'And how long will it be before help arrives?'

Macro frowned as he made a rough estimate of the distances involved. 'Realistically, I'd say it'd be two months before the first ship comes from Rome.'

'Two months? Two months!' Julia gestured towards the tents.

'With the amount of food we have, those people aren't going to last two months. There has to be some quicker way to get help. What about the closest provinces? Egypt, Cyprus or Greece?'

'They will do what they can. But the trouble is, I imagine they'll be wary of doing anything without requesting permission from Rome.'

Julia shook her head. 'That's madness.'

'That's bureaucracy, miss.'

'But we have to help these people.'

'We are helping them. What they need is order, and that's what I am giving them. Once that is established then I can deal with the food and make sure that everyone is fed as well as our stocks allow.

It's going to be tough, on all of us. Mollycoddling a civilian mob is not the kind of situation I'm used to handling, to be honest, miss.'

'So I can see,'Julia responded in an acerbic tone as she nodded towards the column escorting Atticus. 'That was very well handled.

I'm sure that little incident has helped to win the people round.'

'Now that is out of order.' Macro frowned. 'I'm not standing for election, miss. I just want to do the best for those who have survived.

I want to give them a decent chance to live through this and get back to some kind of normal existence. If that means I have to use methods that don't go down well with the mob, and troublemakers like Atticus there, then that's just tough.'

'On you? Or them?'

'On all of us.' Macro repositioned his felt skullcap and put his helmet back on. 'If that's all, miss, I have work to do.'

He strode off after his men, still fastening his helmet straps. Julia watched him for a moment, knowing full well that she was in the wrong. She had been acquainted with Macro long enough to know that however direct and harsh his methods might seem, his purpose was always well-meaning and fair. By the time she had decided to make her apology, Macro had already entered the headquarters building and disappeared from sight.

Julia slapped her hand against her thigh, furious with herself, and then turned away from the acropolis and gazed out across the tented slope. The crowd that had gathered to hear Macro's announcement was slow in dispersing, and little knots of people still clung together, no doubt voicing their anger. Macro had authority over them for the moment, she reflected, but when the food began to run out, hunger and despair would tear apart the present fragile order. She shuddered at the prospect, and then slowly made her way back through the gate into the acropolis. There was nothing for her to do. She had volunteered her services to help the cohort's surgeon tend the wounded, but he had rebuffed her curtly, saying that the hospital was no place for a senator's daughter. When she had tried to argue the case, pointing out that she had performed such duties during the siege at Palmyra, the surgeon had bitterly remarked that the people of the east were barbarians. Different standards applied in Crete.

Much as Julia hoped the surgeon was right, she had seen enough of the world to know that any civilisation was only ever a few meals away from anarchy and the bloody chaos that would inevitably follow. The thought immediately made her long to be reunited with her father and Cato. She felt a pang of longing for Cato and wished he was with her, making her feel safe.

'I hope you haven't called me here to waste my time,' said Macro as he placed the torch in an iron bracket and sat down on the bottom step of the cistern to look at Atticus. The Greek was chained by the ankle to the rock wall. His white tunic was streaked with filth. He had been in the prison for only one night, and the dark, the damp stench and the isolation had acted on him with impressive speed.

'You told the sentry it was important.'

'It is. I want to offer you a deal.'

'Really?'

Macro smiled thinly. 'What kind of a deal? Are you going to promise to be a good boy if I let you go?'

'Yes. I'll behave.'

'I see, and why should I trust you to behave? You see, I have no more faith in your word than you have in mine.'

Atticus licked his lips nervously. 'I know where to find food.'

'So do I; we keep digging in the ruins.'

'I mean, I know where we can find a lot of food. Enough to feed the people for many days.'

'Oh. And where would this food be?'

'The farming estate of a friend of mine.'

'Where?'

'On the coast, not far from here. The estate belongs to Demetrius of Ithaca.'

'We've already tried there. I sent a patrol yesterday. They came back empty-handed. It seems the slaves, or their brigand friends, had got there ahead of us and emptied the grain pits.'

Atticus smiled. 'That's what you think. Demetrius is a cautious man. Being close to the sea, he was always worried about raids from pirates. So he kept his valuables, and nearly all his produce, in a small compound a mile or so from the main estate. The entrance is easily missed, and the compound is protected by a palisade. I dare say that Demetrius will have headed there the moment the earthquake ended.'

'Assuming he survived.'

'I don't doubt that he did. He's a resourceful man.'

'I assume that you could lead us there.'

'In exchange for my freedom… and a reward.'

'Once you give me the directions to this compound,' Macro responded. 'If you're right, then I'll think about letting you out.'

'Nothing doing. You either let me show you where it is and let me go, or you can starve for all I care.' Atticus gestured casually.' Of course you could always torture me to reveal the location and then have me quietly killed.'

Macro nodded slowly.' Not a bad idea, that. A red-hot poker up the arse is usually pretty good at loosening tongues. I could give it a go, if you like.'

Atticus looked hard at Macro, trying to gauge if the other man was joking, but there was a dangerous glint in Macro's eyes and the Greek swallowed quickly. 'I'll show you where it is, and then you can set me free.'

'I'll think about it.'

'I won't co-operate unless you guarantee my release,' Atticus said with as much defiance as he could manage.

'It's too late to strike a deal, my friend. You've already told me you have something I want. I don't suppose for a moment that you want to take that knowledge with you to the grave. So, it's just a question of torturing you until you give it up. And if, by some miracle, you are a much tougher bastard than I take you for, then you might die before spilling your guts. I shan't complain if there is one less mouth to feed… once we've finished pulling you to pieces, a bit at a time.'

Macro sat back and scratched his chin nonchalantly. 'So then, what's it to be? Tell me what you know, or let me prise it out of you?'

Atticus gritted his teeth as he let out a long hiss of breath. 'All right, I'll take you to the compound. Then will you release me?'

'You play fair by me, and I'll do the same for you,' Macro replied.

He stood and turned to climb back up the steps.

'Hey! What about me?' Atticus called after him.

Macro paused and looked back. 'Tyrant you called me. That, I can live with. Pig, on the other hand, takes a little time to get over.

Another night in here will do wonders to help you develop a due sense of deference. Sleep tight.'