Gladiator: Vengeance Read online

  Marcus did not reply but came on in a crouch, sword point up and to the side, as he had been trained. The gang leader thrust at him, but Marcus saw the blow coming and swerved to the side, hacking down into his opponent’s forearm before swivelling round and inside the reach of the man to thrust his blade up with as much strength as he could summon. It was a purely instinctive move, and he had made no conscious decision to kill the gang leader. Yet the point of the sword pierced Procrustes’ throat, driving up through the skull into his brain. His face was close to Marcus, and his eyes were wide and staring as his head trembled uncontrollably. His jaw sagged as he muttered incoherently. Then his fingers released their hold on his sword and it thudded to the ground.

  There was a hot rush of blood as Marcus wrenched the blade free and stepped back, shocked by the violence he had unleashed. Procrustes slumped to his knees with a horrible keening noise, then toppled over beside the fire, his stunned expression washed in the red glow of the embers as his blood pooled around him. Marcus stood over him, chest heaving, every muscle in his body tensed.

  ‘Marcus,’ Festus said gently.

  He looked up and saw the bodyguard a short distance away, a concerned expression on his face.

  ‘It’s over,’ Festus said. ‘Lower your sword, boy.’

  Marcus blinked as the battle rage began to drain from his body. He saw that he had instinctively raised the point of his blade towards his comrade, and lowered it and took a deep breath.

  ‘All right now?’ asked Festus.

  ‘Yes. Fine. I’m fine.’

  Festus looked down at Procrustes, whose body was twitching gently as the last of his life drained out of him. ‘Pity. I had hoped to finish him myself. Three are dead, including him, and the rest are wounded. Good work, Marcus. And you, Lupus.’

  Marcus saw his friend emerging from the gloom into the dim pool of light cast by the fire. He carried a sword and blood dripped from the end of the blade. Marcus saw that he was trembling. Around them he could still hear the cries and moans of the wounded.

  ‘What now?’

  Festus shrugged. ‘We could finish them off. Or we let them live and send ’em back to Leuctra.’ He paused and looked at Marcus. ‘Your choice.’

  Marcus was surprised. ‘My choice. Why?’

  ‘Because I think you are ready to make some of your own decisions. It’s time to decide what kind of a man you will become.’

  Marcus frowned. Why was Festus doing this? And why now? His mind was too tired to think clearly and he raised a hand to rub his brow as he considered the choice Festus had given him. It made sense to finish the gang off and bury the bodies. They would be discovered eventually, but hopefully by then Marcus would have found his mother and returned home. On the other hand, he was sickened by the bloodshed he had witnessed over the last two years and had no desire to add to it.

  ‘We let them go.’

  Festus searched his face for a moment and nodded.

  ‘What about the dead?’ asked Lupus. ‘What do we do with their bodies?’

  ‘Leave them where they are. If anyone cares about them, they’ll come and find them. Not our problem.’

  The four survivors from the gang were set free from the traps and their wounds dressed with cloth from the tunics of their dead comrades. One of them had been stabbed in the stomach by a concealed stake and was coughing up blood and moaning, supported by two of his companions. Marcus realized it was unlikely that he would live.

  Festus stood in front of them, regarding them with contempt. ‘So much for your attempt to murder us while we slept. Your leader is dead, along with two more of your gang. We could have killed you all. But we’re not murderers or cowards who strike in the night. So you get to live. But I want you to remember this. Go back to Leuctra and warn your friends what happened. Let them know that if we pass this way again and find the town still in the hands of your gang, then we’ll complete the job we started tonight. Is that understood?’

  The men stared at him, their fear evident in their expressions.

  ‘I said, is that understood?’ Festus repeated loudly. ‘Or do I have to carve the message into your chests with my knife?’

  The men nodded quickly.

  ‘Then get out of my sight, before I change my mind. GO!’

  They turned and stumbled down the forest path leading back to the road, the mortally injured man groaning in agony as his companions dragged him away. Marcus watched until they had disappeared into the darkness. Suddenly he felt utterly exhausted as the nervous energy drained from his body.

  ‘You boys did well tonight,’ said Festus. ‘Now get some sleep. It’ll be dawn in a few hours. I’ll stand the last watch.’

  Lupus nodded mutely and made his way back to the fire to retrieve his cloak that had been used to shroud one of the dummies. He settled down close to the embers but Marcus hung back beside Festus. The man turned to look at him.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Did I make the right choice?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘Only you can know that.’

  Marcus sighed. ‘But what would you have done?’

  Festus thought briefly before he answered. ‘I’d have killed them.’

  ‘Oh … Then I made a mistake.’

  ‘No. You did the right thing from your point of view. I’m different. Perhaps if you had lived as long as I have then you might have decided differently. There’s no right or wrong in this, Marcus. Only a difference in perspective. Now get some rest. We’ve still got a full day on the road ahead of us when the sun rises.’

  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?’
r />   ‘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 sle
nder 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.’

  14

  ‘So, Marcus, what can the governor, and I, do for you exactly?’ Euraeus smiled as he faced his three visitors across his gleaming walnut desk. They were seated on the stools that one of the aide’s clerks had brought for them, along with a tray of scented water and some pastries.

  Marcus hastily chewed the mouthful of minted lamb and crust that he had been enjoying and wiped the crumbs from his mouth. At the same time his mind was hurriedly organizing his thoughts over how much information he should provide to Euraeus. Marcus explained the cover story that they had agreed on and then moved on to the real reason for their presence in Greece.