Arena (28 page)

The optio considered the guard’s words for a moment before tightening his gaze at the sealed door. ‘If Bato is planning a new career in brigandage, he needs men – and plenty of them. There’d be no point in escaping with only a handful of gladiators. That’s why he ambushed us rather than flee the ludus immediately. He needed the keys to the dormitory block in order to release all his mates. Someone was kind enough to let him get his hands on them.’

Macro turned to look at Macer as he spoke and he saw the commander slipping away from the crowd in the middle of the room towards the door. Anger surged in Macro’s heart and he leapt towards the man and clamped his hand round his wrist.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Macer yelped. He tried wrenching his wrist free of Macro’s firm grip. ‘Release me at once! I wish to leave. I have no desire to die because of your foolishness.’

‘You’re going nowhere,’ Macro snapped. ‘Everyone is to stay here until the rebels have been crushed.’ Even in the dim glow of the candles, the expression on his face must have been visible to Macer, because he shifted awkwardly on his feet and swallowed hard.

‘This is all your fault,’ he said waspishly.

‘That’s rich, coming from the coward who dropped the keys to the cells.’

Macer narrowed his eyes at Macro until they were slits as thin as his lips. ‘Your stubbornness has led us down a path of destruction, Optio. I warned you that Bato commands a loyal following. I implored you not to aggravate the man. Corvus at least heeded my advice. He knew it was best to keep Bato under control with the odd indulgence. If only you had listened to me, none of this would have happened.’

‘I was doing my job. It’s not my fault you let Bato have the run of the place.’

‘I’m sick of being lectured by a common soldier,’ Macer sneered. ‘You may have been decorated by the Emperor, but I served in the Praetorian Guard. I don’t have to listen to your tirade, Macro.’

‘You’re a failed Praetorian. Worse, you’re a fucking disgrace.’

Macer stiffened. ‘Several of my men are dead. The blame for that lies squarely with you. Thanks to your incompetence and your refusal to heed my repeated warnings, a dozen or more gladiators are also dead – each worth thousands of sestertii, I might add, and the personal property of his imperial majesty. I shall write this incident up and present my report to Pallas at the first opportunity.’

‘By all means. Then I’ll explain to Pallas how you ran away and left your men to fend for themselves. Even those sly Greeks take a pretty dim view of cowardice.’

Macer pressed his lips together.

‘Glabrio!’ Macro yelled.

‘Sir?’ the guard answered.

‘Take this man down to the basement and chain him up.’

The guard approached Macer and seized his upper arm.

‘You can’t do this!’ the officer protested.

‘I already am.’ Macro raised his sword and pointed the tip at Macer’s soft chin, drawing a panicked look from the commander. ‘Now don’t make any noise down there. I don’t want to have to come down and convince you to shut up.’

Glabrio bundled Macer towards the steps leading down to the cellar. ‘You’ll pay for this, Optio, I swear!’

Macro watched the commander depart. Beside him Bassus clicked his tongue.

‘What’s the plan now, sir?’

Macro pursed his lips as he considered his options. ‘We’re low on numbers. Apart from the guards, we’ve only got a bunch of orderlies and household slaves, and none of them has a hope in Hades of wielding a sword. We’re no match for our enemy. The odds don’t favour us.’

He felt a leaden weight descend on his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he thought for a moment before continuing.

‘We can only hope to crush the rebellion by regaining control of the ludus. The main entrance is reasonably secure. Even if Bato and his men manage to lever up the portcullis, that outer door won’t budge. But sooner or later the gladiators will figure out that they can break through this door without any great difficulty. Then the lot of us are done for.’

‘So what are we waiting for?’ Bassus said. ‘Let’s take the fight to ’em, sir!’

Macro shook his head bitterly. ‘As I said, we don’t have the numbers to take the dormitory by force. There are about a hundred remaining gladiators versus only a few of us. As things stand, we have no way of retaking the ludus. The best we can hope to achieve is to contain the gladiators within these walls. But that’s a temporary measure. It’s only a matter of time before Bato forces the issue and attacks us with everything he’s got. We’d be able to hold out for a short while, but sooner or later that Thracian pig and his men would overrun us.’

‘What about asking the nearest ludus for help?’ Bassus enquired.

Macro grimaced in frustration. ‘I’ve thought about that already. But it’s a non-starter. The closest one is half a day’s travel. It’s too far. By the time any reinforcements arrived, Bato would have barged his way through here and left us all for dead.’

‘So that’s it, sir? We’re done for?’ Pavo asked softly.

‘Not necessarily,’ Macro answered tersely. He turned to Pavo. There was a glint in his eye as he smiled at the badly bruised gladiator. ‘You’re forgetting that the Emperor is en route to Capua from Puteoli.’

Pavo nodded. ‘Murena mentioned it at our meeting last week. Told me the old fool wants to cast his eye over the imperial gladiators ahead of next month’s games.’

‘The Emperor travels with a large retinue. Pallas will be with him, of course. And the other freedmen Claudius insists on surrounding himself with.’ Macro flashed a wide grin at Pavo. ‘But more importantly, he’ll be accompanied by his German guards.’

Pavo slapped his hand against his thigh. ‘By the gods, you’re right! I’ve seen the Germans at the imperial palace. There’s got to be at least two hundred of them in Claudius’s personal bodyguard. Even with half their number, we could soon put an end to Bato and his rebellion.’

‘The Emperor was due to arrive in Capua today, if I remember correctly.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Pavo answered eagerly. ‘At a villa on the hills above Capua. I’ve been there. It’s not far by foot. If we send a messenger now, the Germans could reach us by nightfall, sir.’ He paused, his brow furrowed. ‘But what if Murena refuses to come to our rescue? Knowing that Greek snake, nothing would please him more than to see the pair of us get slaughtered by a mob of rabid Thracians.’

Macro shook his head. ‘He’s not in a position to refuse to help us, lad. This is the imperial ludus, the property of the Emperor. Once Murena gets word of the rebellion, he’ll shit himself at the thought of the gladiators tearing the place down. That conniving Greek and his master Pallas will have no choice but to send out a full complement of Germans. Then we can take back the ludus.’ Macro’s expression suddenly soured. ‘The only downside is it means having to grovel to Murena. He and Pallas will bloody love it. They’ll have me by the balls. I’ll be indebted to both of them. Worse, they might very well blame me for the rebellion in the first place.’

‘There is no other way, sir,’ Bassus said, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. ‘You said so yourself. The private ludi are all too far away. Murena is close by. He’s the only chance we have to save this place … and ourselves. Besides, if you don’t ask him for help and Bato’s men overrun us, the Emperor will demand your head for losing his gladiators and his ludus.’

‘Saved by a couple of Greeks.’ Macro shook his head. The thought rankled.

‘We don’t have any choice.’

Macro bit his tongue as he wrestled with the dilemma. Begging for help from the aide to the imperial secretary offended his principles. He was a resourceful soldier, with a proud record of overcoming desperate odds on the field of battle. But even he could see no way out of their predicament without calling on outside support. Swallowing his pride, he thumped his fist on the desk.

‘Bollocks!’ He swung his gaze towards the door as Glabrio returned from the cellar. ‘Glabrio!’

‘Yes, sir?’ the guard replied.

Macro gestured to the front door. ‘I want you to leave immediately for the Emperor’s villa. Pavo will provide you with the precise directions. Get there as soon as possible. When you reach the villa, tell Murena it’s an emergency. Make sure he understands that the safety of not only the ludus but all of Capua is at stake. We need every German guard he can spare.’

Glabrio nodded dutifully. After being given directions by Pavo, the guard hurried out of the ludus. Macro watched him leave, a sense of excitement building in his chest at the thought of the impending reinforcements.

‘Now all we have to do is hold our position until the Germans arrive.’

A thought clouded Pavo’s mind. He bit his lip as the door closed behind the guard. Macro noticed the unease written into the young gladiator’s features.

‘What’s bothering you, boy?’

Pavo pursed his lips. ‘It’s something that Bato’s followers said in the baths, right before they set on me. About their plan, sir.’

Macro frowned. Pavo did not appear to like what he had heard. ‘Well, what is it?’

Pavo closed his eyes as a wave of hot pain shrieked in his ribs. ‘According to his thugs, Bato and his men only plan to escape once they’ve freed their comrades and ransacked the ludus.’

‘The money raised from the gladiator sales,’ Macro acknowledged gruffly. ‘Bato got wind of it and demanded I hand it over. Go on.’

‘A successful brigand outfit needs weapons, sir. That’s what I overheard in the baths.’ Pavo stared at the optio and gulped loudly. ‘His men were discussing the possibility of acquiring some proper weaponry.’

Macro looked wide-eyed with horror at the gladiator.

‘Oh shit. The armoury.’

P
avo regarded the optio with a look of deep concern. Faint screams emanated from the dormitory block on the other side of the ludus as the gladiators continued to riot and murder indiscriminately. Bassus and the other guards tightened their gazes on Macro. In the background the slaves stood still and silent, listening in to the conversation.

‘Aren’t the weapons locked up?’ Pavo asked.

Macro laughed in his throat. ‘That’s a generous way of putting it. The gate protecting the weapons is rustier than my Greek. Your son could break it open, let alone Bato and his mob.’

‘That’s if they haven’t already done so,’ Bassus cut in. ‘We may be too late.’

Pavo shook his head. The effort made him wince. Every muscle in his body ached horribly. He bit back on the pain, swallowed it into the pit of his stomach, remembering the stoic resilience of Titus and his forebears, drawing strength from their bravery in the face of adversity.

‘Bato won’t have got to the armoury yet.’

Macro rubbed his heavily furrowed brow. ‘How can you be so sure?’

‘I overheard him saying that he plans to execute the Celts in their cells first.’

‘Makes sense, sir,’ Bassus said with a curt nod. ‘One of the Celts killed Bato’s brother in a training-ground bout. The Celt was punished, but Bato has hungered for revenge ever since.’

‘What about the other Thracians?’ Macro asked. ‘Do they hate the Celts too?’

Bassus nodded. ‘The killing of the tribal chief’s brother is a matter of honour among the men of Thrace, sir. Bato’s men crave the shedding of Celtic blood as much as Bato himself.’

Macro thumped his fist into the palm of his hand. ‘We have to do something about the armoury before Murena sends us reinforcements. The Germans would make simple work of a mob of unarmed Thracians. But fighting heavily armed gladiators is a different prospect. These men are highly trained killers. They’d certainly put up stiff resistance. We’d suffer heavy losses. Some of them might even escape to the hills.’

Silence greeted his words.

Then a thought struck Macro. His eyes glowed with grim determination. ‘While Bato and his men are busy carving up Celts for supper, we’ll burn the armoury down. Render the weapons useless.’

‘Crude but effective, sir,’ Pavo said. ‘Although I doubt the Emperor will be pleased about the damage to his ludus.’

‘He’ll be less pleased by the damage to his empire if we don’t,’ Macro countered.

‘You are forgetting one thing, sir,’ Pavo cautioned.

Macro looked blankly at him. ‘What’s that?’

‘We’re trapped,’ Pavo answered simply. ‘As soon as you stick your head out of the door, a mob of angry gladiators will descend on you like dogs after scraps of meat. They’d rip us all limb from fucking limb. Pardon my Gallic, sir.’

Bassus wagged his finger at the gladiator. ‘There is another way out. One that Bato and his followers won’t know about.’

Macro turned to the guard. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We can use the drainage tunnel, sir. It runs under the perimeter of the ludus. One of the gladiators tried to escape through it once, so Corvus sealed it off at this end with a metal grille. But from this side, two or three of us ought to be able to follow the tunnel in the direction of the armoury.’

Pavo raised an eyebrow. ‘The tunnel will take us all the way to the armoury?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Bassus responded with a frown. ‘There was no need for it to be accessible from the armoury. It does, however, link to the infirmary, which is next to the armoury. All we have to do is crawl into the tunnel through the reservoir in the cellar and follow it south, then climb up through the drain and make our way down the corridor.’

‘Then it’s settled,’ Macro decided. ‘We’ll use the drain tunnel.’

He wheeled away from Pavo and carefully removed the bronze medals strapped across his chest. He handed them to an orderly. ‘Take care of these, eh? They were given to me by Claudius. I’ll need two good men to come with me. Bassus, you’ll do. That leaves one more …’

The optio’s eyes settled on Pavo.

‘Me?’ The young gladiator snorted and shook his head. ‘Forget it. I’m in no fit state to fight.’

‘We’re in the middle of a crisis, Pavo.’

Pavo looked unconvinced. ‘Even if I did help, what good would it do me? They’re going to crucify me at the games anyway, sir.’

‘Unless they can’t afford to.’

Pavo scratched his elbow. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’