Gladiator: Street fighter Page 15

  ‘I’ve just been told some of you are questioning my decision to make war on the gangs of that slimy upstart, Clodius. It seems you don’t have the stomach for a fight. Is this how far some of you have sunk? Gutless little worms, too afraid to defend what we’ve spent so long fighting for? It doesn’t matter how this gang war started now. The fact is we’re all in it and we have no choice. We must fight and win. That’s the Aventine way.’ He thrust his finger down towards Brutus. ‘This worthless coward told me we should turn our backs on everything we’ve achieved, beg Clodius to end the gang war and give us peace . . . Some peace! The instant the other gangs in Rome hear about it they’ll have no respect for us. They’ll take every chance to prove the Aventine gangs are pathetic pushovers, like the vermin at my feet.’ Milo lifted his boot and viciously kicked the unconscious Brutus so that he crashed off the bench on to the ground, right beside Marcus. ‘That’s what will happen to anyone who hasn’t the guts to see this war through. I want men, real men, at my back to fight that scumbag Clodius, not weaklings who run to their mothers at the first setback.’ His eyes alighted on Marcus and he beckoned to him as he spoke quietly. ‘Up here, lad.’

  Marcus clambered up beside Milo. The man placed a heavy hand on his shoulder as he addressed his audience again. ‘Even this boy is more of a man than Brutus. At least he has the courage to stand against greater odds when he needs to, and win. If this boy can stand up for himself, so can any man here.’ Marcus felt every pair of eyes turned towards him, and couldn’t help feeling nervous at the attention. He was supposed to be a spy, not a public example. What if someone recognized him from the battle with Clodius?

  ‘I will cut the throat of the next man who wants to talk peace with Clodius. We shall have peace, one day, I swear it. The same day that Clodius, and the last of his men, lie dead at my feet. Until then we fight on, without rest, without pity and without any doubt that the gods are on the side of the Aventine.’

  Milo punched his fist into the air and let out a cheer. Most of his men joined him in a ragged chorus, but Marcus could see many were half-hearted, and some did not cheer at all. Milo kept it up for a moment before he prodded Spurius with the toe of his boot and jerked his thumb towards Brutus, who was lying sprawled on the ground, his head in a small puddle of blood. ‘Get that coward out of here. When he comes to, you tell him he’s finished as far as the Aventine gangs are concerned. If he ever shows his face here again, I’ll carve it from his skull with the bluntest blade I can find.’

  Spurius winced at the threat and nodded. ‘Yes, Milo. I’ll see to it.’

  ‘We don’t need the likes of Brutus,’ Milo continued thought-fully. ‘The time has come for more direct steps . . .’

  He suddenly looked at Marcus. ‘What are you still standing there for? Clean this mess up and bring me a fresh jug of wine.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Marcus bowed his head quickly. With a sigh of relief he jumped down from the table. He trotted past Spurius as he dragged Brutus towards the nearest alley out of The Pit. At the back of the inn Demetrius thrust a broom into Marcus’s hands, then picked up a fresh jug of wine for Milo.

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Demetrius sighed. ‘Brutus was one of my better customers - he even paid for his drinks some of the time.’

  Milo was waiting for them as they stepped out of the inn. He gestured towards Marcus.

  ‘You can leave the cleaning for now. I need you to find Kasos. There’s an important errand I want him to run . . .’

  It was late in the evening when Kasos returned to The Pit. He was not alone. Two men were with him, each one wrapped in a cloak with their hoods raised to conceal their features. One of Milo’s men had been keeping watch in an alley leading to the gang’s lair and escorted them through the other men guarding the approaches to the open space.

  It had been a quiet night at the inn. Most of the customers had been subdued - especially the gang members, who had fallen to muttering among themselves, occasionally glancing round to make sure no one was listening. As the inn began to empty, Milo appeared and told Demetrius to get rid of his remaining customers and close the shutters.

  ‘But they haven’t finished drinking,’ Demetrius protested.

  ‘I don’t care. Get rid of them. Now. I’ll wait outside. Let me know when the last of ’em is out.’

  Demetrius saw the dangerous glare in the gang leader’s eyes and turned to Marcus.

  ‘Come on, lad, you heard. Let’s clear the place.’

  They moved from bench to bench, passing on the instruction. Some customers started to argue, but when told who had given the order they instantly fell silent, downed their drinks and left. One last man had passed out across a table at the back. Demetrius called Marcus and they dragged him outside, dumping him a short distance down the slope. That was when Marcus caught sight of Kasos and the two hooded men making their way across the open space to the inn.

  ‘Come here, Demetrius,’ Milo commanded. ‘I have a couple of guests I need to speak to in private. We’ll use your inn. I take it you won’t mind if I help myself to ajar of your good stuff?’

  ‘N-no, Milo.’ The innkeeper bowed his head and forced a smile. ‘Of course not. Be my guest. Make yourself at home.’

  ‘I’ll also need some bread, dried sausage and olives.’ Demetrius flapped a hand. ‘I have bread. But no sausage, no olives.’

  ‘Then go and buy some. Enough to feed me and two friends.’

  ‘Of course, I’ll send the boy and -’

  ‘No. You go. The boy can stay and serve us with wine.’

  Demetrius swallowed his pride and nodded as he took off his apron. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Quicker would be best for all concerned,’ Milo responded darkly. ‘I’m not in a patient mood.’

  ‘At once then.’ Demetrius nodded and hurried to his back room, emerging with his purse. He paused at the door and looked at Marcus. ‘Go down to the cellar. That’s where I keep the best wine. There’s ajar of Arretian, my last.’ He fought down a choke at losing his prized wine. ‘Use that.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’ Milo smiled as he patted the innkeeper on the shoulder. ‘And use the side door when you come back. We don’t want to be disturbed.’

  Demetrius muttered a surly reply and disappeared into the darkness. Once he had gone Milo turned to Marcus. ‘Fetch the wine, boy.’

  ‘At once,’ Marcus said, and made his way to the rear of the inn. As he reached the threshold of the back room, he heard voices and paused to look round. Milo was framed by the entrance as he spoke to someone outside. ‘Here’s a denarius for you, Kasos. You’ve done well. Just make sure you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Now be on your way.’

  Then Milo stood aside and ushered two men inside. Marcus edged into the back room and peered cautiously round the door frame to keep the men in view. His heart was pounding in his chest and his skin tingled with excitement. Who were these visitors to The Pit? Perhaps this was the moment when he’d discover something to tip the balance in Caesar’s favour. He looked them over. One man wore fine leather boots and a richly embroidered tunic. His companion was more plainly dressed and wore heavy soldier’s boots. A fiery red ruby glinted on the ring he wore on one hand. Milo closed the door behind them and indicated a table close to the counter.

  ‘I appreciate your coming. No doubt you’ve heard my men were given a good kicking today.’

  ‘We know,’ one of the cloaked figures replied. It was impossible for Marcus to know which had spoken from the deep hoods of their cloaks. ‘And we’re not pleased, Milo. You’re supposed to be in control of the streets. That’s what you promised us. That’s what we paid you a very large sum of money to achieve.’

  ‘Unfortunately, Clodius’s backers have rather deeper pockets than you,’ Milo replied tersely. ‘That’s why he’s been able to buy the support of the other gangs. If you had paid me as much, there would be no doubt about the outcome of the fight for control of the streets. The time has come to change our
strategy. ’

  ‘We agree,’ said the man in the cloak as he and his companion followed Milo to the table and sat down. ‘A more direct course of action is required, and that is why I have brought my friend here.’

  ‘You can drop the hoods,’ said Milo. ‘We’re alone.’

  ‘Since we know each other, that’s fair enough for me. But my companion’s identity must remain a secret, even from you.’ The man reached up with his hands and drew his hood back.

  Marcus felt his pulse quicken as he recognized the man and his name almost soundlessly escaped from his Ups. ‘Bibulus . . .’

  If Caesar’s bitterest rival had dared come here to talk to Milo in person then it was clear that Bibulus and his friends were planning something so secret they dare not trust to a go-between. Marcus felt his pulse quicken. This was why he had volunteered for this perilous task. At last he might discover some priceless information for Caesar. Something that would help win this struggle for Caesar once and for all.

  22

  ‘Where’s that wine?’ Milo called out. ‘Boy?’

  Marcus edged further into the room and half covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his reply. ‘Coming, sir!’

  Ahead of him, to the side of the room where Demetrius lived, slept, cooked and counted his money was the narrow staircase leading down to the cellar. Next to it was the door to the alley outside, which Demetrius kept locked. Marcus took a lamp from the small desk where the innkeeper stored his ledger and shielded the flame as he hurried down the stone stairs. The air was chilly and there was barely enough headroom for Marcus to stand upright. The cellar was lined with jars, some empty, and fine strands of cobwebs gleamed in the amber hue cast by the oil lamp. Marcus found the jar bearing the crudely painted label of the Arretian vineyard and tucked it carefully under his arm before he climbed out of the cellar and placed the lamp back on the small desk. The men talked in low voices as Marcus went into the bar and picked up three cups, then made his way over to their table. His heart was pounding with excitement and fear. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He had to be alert, and careful.

  ‘I’ve got the man for thejob,’ Milo was saying. ‘The name’s Lamina. He’s done this kind of thing before. Of course, I’ll need to find a way of getting him close to his target.’

  ‘How do we know he’s any better than those two incompetents you sent to take care of Caesar’s niece?’ Bibulus asked scathingly. ‘No, I think we’ll use our own man. My friend here has someone who suits our purpose. Your men have another part to play. ’

  Milo was about to reply when he became aware of Marcus. ‘The boy’s here with the wine. We’ll talk more after he’s gone,’ he announced to his companions.

  Marcus set down the cups and pulled the stopper out of the wine jar, releasing a rich fruity odour into the air, then filled each cup. The man still wearing his hood was leaning forward on his elbows, only the outline of his jaw visible. He did not look up.

  ‘That will be all,’ Milo nodded. ‘Leave us alone. Get into the back room and close the door behind you.’

  Marcus nodded and returned to the doorway behind the counter. All the time his heart was beating wildly. He needed to hear what passed between the three men. In an instant he decided on his plan. As he passed through the door he dropped to his knees and crawled stealthily back through, hidden by the counter. He pulled the door shut, with enough force to ensure that the latch clicked.

  The silence was broken by Bibulus. ‘Is there any danger he can still hear us?’

  ‘No,’ Milo replied confidently. ‘The door’s solid and the boy’s keen to get on here. He won’t risk his position. We’re safe. You were telling me about your man. The one who will do the job.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I know you’ve handled this sort of thing for us before, but this is different. We can’t afford to have your men connected with this. It’s vital that I am not seen to be involved in any way. My friend here assures me his man is good. He’ll carry out the task and disappear. Your part is to provide a distraction and keep Caesar’s bodyguards busy.’

  ‘I see,’ Milo replied. ‘Then I shall want paying, and paying well. ’

  ‘We can afford it,’ Bibulus replied. ‘Isn’t that right?’

  The hooded man replied in a low voice. ‘Money is no object.’

  ‘Just as well,’ Milo chuckled. ‘Caesar is not an easy target.’

  Marcus’s blood went cold. These were the details of the plot against Caesar’s life. It was vital he heard as much as he could, then quietly leave the following morning to report to Festus. Holding his breath, he inched forward along the base of the counter. He needed to be close to the three men so that he missed nothing. There was a hole in the counter where a knot in the wood had fallen out and Marcus eased himself towards it. He looked out at an angle - Milo and Bibulus were in view, but all he could see of the hooded man was his back.

  ‘So let’s talk about the plan,’ Milo continued. ‘It would be best to strike when he is alone in a room in his house, I’d have thought.’

  ‘No.’ The hooded man intervened. ‘It’s to be done in public. Caesar is planning to push through an amendment to the Land Bill two days from now. In it he will demand that every senator swears an oath not to repeal the Act after it is passed. If they refuse to take the oath then they are to be deemed guilty of treason. Let Caesar announce his amendment before our man strikes. I will sit close to Bibulus and give the signal for the killer to strike by taking out a red cloth and wiping my brow. Caesar will fall as he leaves the Senate and passes through the Forum.’

  ‘That’s a suicide mission,’ Milo countered. ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘Not if your gangs cause a disturbance to cover the killer’s escape.’

  Marcus saw Milo scratch his jaw thoughtfully. ‘It’s risky, though it could work. But why not take the easier route and kill him in his home?’

  ‘Because then it would be murder,’ Bibulus said, as if explaining something to a child. ‘It is better that Caesar is killed after he announces something that can be presented as a gross infringement of the rights of the senators. That way it can be seen as the rightful killing of a tyrant. Do you understand? The last thing Rome needs right now is for Caesar to be portrayed as a victim of those who oppose distributing to the poor.’

  They were interrupted by a rattle from the alley as a key was fitted to the lock of the back room.

  ‘Here comes our food,’ Milo announced.

  Marcus felt his heart leap in his chest. Demetrius had returned sooner than he’d anticipated. If he discovered Marcus hiding behind the counter then he would be exposed as a spy. He would be tortured for information before they killed him. Marcus desperately tried to think of a way that he could get out of this.

  The lock clicked and there was a grating sound as the door swung in on its hinges. As it shut the lock rattled again. Then Demetrius called out, ‘Junius! In here, boy! I need you to slice the sausage . . . Junius!’

  Milo spoke into the silence at the table. ‘Strange. I thought the boy was in there. If he’s slipped off to amuse himself then Demetrius will take a belt to him.’

  ‘Junius!’ Demetrius called out again, then the door to the back room opened and he stepped into the inn, stopping abruptly as he saw the three men. ‘I’m sorry, gentlemen. Have you seen the boy?’

  Marcus pressed himself into the side of the counter and dared not breathe as he looked to where Demetrius stood poised by the door. The innkeeper had not seen him yet.

  ‘The boy went into the back room,’ said Milo. ‘Perhaps he’s gone out.’

  Demetrius frowned. ‘No. That’s not possible. I keep the door locked and only I have the key.’

  ‘Then where is he?’ Milo demanded.

  ‘I’ll try the cellar,’ said Demetrius. ‘If he’s helping himself to anything down there, then I’ll beat him to within an inch of his life.’

  He turned and stopped as his eyes fell on Marcus. ‘There he is! Asleep on the floor.�
��

  Marcus shut his eyes, hoping to play along with the innkeeper’s point of view, but an instant later a bench scraped on the flagstones of the floor and Bibulus growled, ‘Asleep? I saw him go into the room. He closed the door . . . He’s been spying on us . . .’

  More benches scraped as the other men stood, and Milo cursed. ‘He’s a spy. Grab him!’

  Marcus sprang up and raced for the door to the back room. Ahead of him Demetrius was slow to react. His face was fixed in open-mouthed surprise as Marcus braced his neck and headbutted the innkeeper in the stomach. Demetrius folded up, staggered back a pace and slumped heavily to the floor. Marcus sprinted into the back room and with a surge of relief saw the key still in the door leading to the alley. Behind him, footsteps pounded across the flagstones as Milo and the others ran after him. Marcus reached the door, grabbed the key and turned it quickly before pulling it out. As he jumped through the door, he saw Milo at the other end of the room. Then he slammed the door shut, rammed the key home and turned it an instant before the studded timbers heaved as the gang leader crashed into it.

  ‘The other way!’ Milo yelled. ‘Out the front!’

  Marcus turned away from The Pit and sprinted up the alley. It was pitch black - few of those living here could afford to keep lights burning. He kept to the middle of the alley, trusting it would be free of rubbish. Behind him he heard shouts, and Milo’s voice bellowing across The Pit as he raised the alarm.

  ‘There he is!’

  Marcus looked back and saw Bibulus in the entrance to the alley, pointing at him. He ran on, then saw another alley to his left and turned into that, continuing until he passed two openings to his right and then chose the second. Marcus was desperate for his pursuers to lose his trail, even if it meant risking the loss of his own bearings. As far as he could tell, he was heading roughly towards the centre of Rome, and the safety of Caesar’s house. Already the sounds of pursuit were muffled, but there were more voices now, men shouting to each other, orders being given.