Arena (52 page)

Pavo resisted, digging his feet into the sand despite his sapped strength. ‘You can’t do this!’ he protested.

‘Oh, but I can.’ Murena laughed cruelly, his eyes narrow with cunning. ‘I must say, this has all worked out rather nicely. Hermes is dead, Pallas and I retain our influence within the imperial palace and you are to be nailed to a cross. A fitting fate for the son of a treasonous general, no?’

Pavo clenched his jaws shut as black rage pounded viciously inside his skull. He was consumed by an urge to snap the neck of the imperial aide. Murena smiled gleefully at him.

‘Send my regards to Titus in the afterlife,’ he mocked as he turned to leave.

‘That’s the culprit!’ a voice thundered from across the arena.

Murena halted and turned back round. Pavo looked towards the entrance at the opposite end of the arena and spotted Narcissus storming out of the tunnel, accompanied by Emperor Claudius and several of his German bodyguards. Narcissus appeared flushed with anger. He sidestepped Hermes’s bloodied corpse and pointed an accusing finger at Murena.

Claudius frowned sharply.

‘Are y-you quite s-s-sure of this, Narcissus?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely certain, your majesty,’ the freedman replied brusquely.

Murena shifted uneasily on the spot, his face shading white with fear as he looked at Narcissus and the Emperor in turn. He smiled weakly. ‘Is there a problem, your majesty?’

Claudius flashed a look of cold anger at the aide, his lips quivering with outrage. ‘N-Narcissus tells me that you hired s-s-several thugs – retired g-gladiators, no less! – to kill him.’

Murena was momentarily flustered. Murmurs erupted in the stands. The aide briefly lost his composure and something like panic flashed in his pale eyes. Pallas paced sheepishly behind Claudius. The imperial secretary did not even glance at his aide, Pavo noted. The two Praetorian Guards still held the gladiator by the arms and they glanced from Murena to Claudius, uncertain as to their orders.

‘Is s-s-such a thing t-true?’ Claudius asked after a pause, his temper rising.

‘Of course not, your majesty!’ Murena spluttered. ‘I would never dream of conspiring against a fellow freedman. Narcissus is clearly mistaken.’

Narcissus glared at him. ‘I don’t think so, Murena.’

The aide shook his head. ‘You have no proof to support this preposterous claim, Narcissus. Indeed, your very presence here exposes your lies. If I had paid some retired thugs to dispose of you, then why are you standing here before us?’

‘Oh, but I have proof.’ Narcissus folded his arms smugly across his chest and nodded to a figure standing amid the throng of German bodyguards. Ruga stepped forward and stood beside him. Pavo looked at Murena. There was a definite flicker of fear in the aide’s eyes, he thought. Murena swallowed hard and glared at the retired gladiator.

‘You …’ he hissed.

‘Publius Didius Ruga is not the one to blame here, your majesty,’ Narcissus went on in a measured, calculating tone of voice. ‘Ruga was bribed by Murena into taking part in a despicable plot with several of his retired gladiator comrades to kill me if Pavo lost his fight against Hermes.’

Murena countered frantically, ‘These men are telling lies, your majesty!’

Claudius kept his gaze on Murena as Narcissus spoke. ‘I am telling the truth. And Ruga here can confirm what I have to say. Murena ordered Ruga and his comrades to lie in wait in one of the alleys near the imperial palace. When he believed that Pavo was losing the fight, he gave the signal for one of the servants to lure me away from your side, your majesty, on the pretext that I was required at the palace on urgent business. Ruga and his comrades were then to ambush me in the alley.’ Narcissus paused and smiled sardonically. ‘A bold plan, I must say, if somewhat clumsy in its execution.’

‘Outrageous lies!’ Murena threw up his arms, his face burning with fury.

Narcissus ignored him and continued. ‘Mercifully I already had my suspicions after Gnaeus Sentius Cornicen, the imperial lanista, reported to me that Murena had taken a special interest in training Pavo. I knew he was up to something. Thankfully Ruga refused to carry out the task; his first duty is to Rome, like any good Roman’s, and he reported the ruse to his former employer, Senator Macula, late last night. The senator is a good friend of mine and he came straight to me with the news.’

Murena was speechless. Silence fluttered over the arena. Pavo looked on, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. Now he understood why Narcissus had left the imperial box during the fight. He recalled what Murena had said when the aide had visited him in training the previous day.
Pallas and I will do whatever is necessary to stay in power.

Claudius stared at the aide for a moment before turning his gaze on Ruga. ‘W-w-well?’

Ruga bowed his head and nodded. ‘It’s true, your majesty.’

‘These men are trying to deceive you, your majesty.’ Murena looked pleadingly at the Emperor. ‘I swear to all the gods, I had no hand in any such plot. Narcissus is attempting to turn you against me.’

Narcissus rolled his eyes at the aide. ‘For gods’ sakes, don’t beg. It is rather unseemly, even for a freedman.’

‘Your majesty, I would never—’

‘Silence!’ Claudius yelled, suddenly flushed with anger. Murena’s lips quivered with fear as the Emperor turned to Pallas. ‘Did y-y-you have anything to d-do with this t-treachery?’

Pallas feigned innocence while Murena visibly shook with fear a short distance away from him. ‘I swear, your majesty, this is the first I have heard of these vile allegations. I assure you that my aide acted without my knowledge or permission in this affair.’

That appeared to satisfy Claudius. He scowled at Murena and waved to the guards. ‘T-t-take this despicable t-traitor to the Mamertine! He can w-w-wait there until we c-crucify him tomorrow.’

Murena’s eyes went wide with horror. Snivelling, he dropped to his knees in front of the Emperor. ‘Please, most gracious majesty, I beg of you, let me live!’

The Emperor’s expression hardened. ‘Get to your f-f-feet, Murena. A man should e-e-embrace death with dignity.’

With that Claudius gave a stiff nod of his head and the guards dragged Murena towards the tunnel entrance, the aide screaming for mercy. Narcissus smiled as the crowd began to chant, ‘Crucifixion for Murena! Crucifixion for Murena!’ The spectators around the stadium were delighted that the day’s entertainment had not ended with the gladiator fight. Turning away from Murena, the Emperor waved a frail hand at the men who were holding Pavo.

‘R-r-release the gladiator. He has p-p-proved a noble swordsman.’

The guards obediently stepped away from Pavo. The young gladiator clutched the throbbing wound on his bicep and flashed a dark look at the Praetorians. He was beginning to understand why Optio Macro hated them. Claudius pursed his lips and considered Pavo for a moment.

‘Perhaps I was w-w-wrong about you,’ the Emperor mused. ‘Rome needs m-more men such as yourself. There are f-few heroes these days. Too few to waste, while b-barbarians mass along our f-f-frontiers. You are free to g-go, young Pavo.’

Pavo looked astounded. Something like joy fluttered in his chest. He sank to his knees. Freedom. He had never thought he would taste it again. For a moment he was unable to speak. Drained from his fight, weary from the months of deprivation, he managed a half-hearted smile at Claudius.

‘Thank you, your majesty.’

‘Y-you have earned it, young m-man. In blood.’ The Emperor paused and considered something. ‘A freedman needs money, especially a gladiator who has been f-f-fighting without any bounty. I sh-shall see to it that your family estate in A-Antium is returned to y-you.’

Pavo’s smile widened slightly. He had spent many a holiday at the villa in Antium as a child. And the land surrounding the estate would provide a modest income.

Claudius abruptly dismissed Pallas and Narcissus from the arena and waved to a pair of attendants. One of them bore a silver urn filled with coins. The other carried a palm leaf. The Emperor looked at Pavo as the attendants swept across the arena.

‘Now, to your f-f-feet, Pavo,’ Claudius intoned. ‘It is time for y-you to accept your title – Champion of the Arena …’

As the sun set over the imperial palace the next day, Pavo made his way down the marble entrance steps, clutching his wooden rudis of freedom. After the arena had emptied the previous afternoon, Claudius had ordered that the grandstands should remain in place for the following day’s crucifixion. A sizeable crowd had turned up to watch Murena’s execution. With both Lanatus and the aide to the imperial secretary dead, Pavo could rest easy. No one else was aware of his involvement in the conspiracy to kill Claudius, and Murena’s desperate accusations against him had fallen on deaf ears. Pavo had been invited to the imperial palace following the public crucifixion to receive his rudis in person from Claudius in front of a large assembly of dignitaries. Although officially he could not reclaim his place among the senatorial class, the respect his father’s peers showed him was obvious. Bravery was a rare commodity in Rome. Rarer than it ought to be, Pavo reflected.

Ruga and Bucco had been present to watch Pavo receive his freedom. In recognition of his help in training the gladiator to victory and exposing the conspiracy against Narcissus, Ruga had been given a new job as an imperial bodyguard, escorting functionaries as they went about their civic duties around Rome. Bucco had told Pavo that he intended to pursue his career as a comedy actor. At the end of the ceremony he had bid Pavo a warm farewell and the two men had sworn to remain friends. Pavo had a feeling they would be seeing each other again before too long.

Now Pavo grimaced as he made his way down from the entrance. The injuries sustained in his brutal clash with Hermes were still painful and he moved stiffly as he neared the wrought-iron gates at the bottom. The ornate colonnades cast long shadows over the steps. Squinting in the sunset, he noticed two silhouetted figures waiting for him. The new Champion of the Arena slowed his step as the Praetorian Guards stationed at their posts opened the gates. He limped towards the two figures outside. Then he caught sight of their faces and a surge of emotion swelled inside his chest.

Macro stepped towards him. His hand was clasped round the tiny fingers of a timid child by his side. The soldier grinned broadly at the stunned gladiator and cocked his head at the child.

‘This little rascal belongs to you, I believe.’

For a moment Pavo couldn’t speak. He dropped to his knees. Tears instantly welled in his eyes. ‘Appius!’

Macro released the child’s hand and gently nudged Appius towards his father. Pavo watched the child in amazement. Appius’s gait was awkward as he approached his father, and Pavo felt a surge of pride as he watched his son walking on his own. He had been a baby the last time Pavo had seen him; now he was a small boy. Pavo felt a sudden pang of sadness.

‘My son,’ he stuttered. ‘It’s really you.’

Appius looked curiously at his father. Pavo imagined that he must appear unrecognisable to the young boy. A straggly beard covered the lower half of his face. His arms and legs were marked with bruises and scars from his battles in the arena. His once skinny frame was enlarged with taut muscle.

‘I missed you so much, my boy.’

Pavo placed his hands on his son’s small shoulders. So young. There was a flicker of recognition in his blue eyes, as the child tried to place the face in front of him. At last he reached out and touched the wooden rudis Pavo was holding.

‘Sword,’ Appius said.

‘Yes, sword,’ Pavo replied.

The child raised his hand and lightly touched a scar on Pavo’s face. ‘Father.’

Pavo smiled. Overcome with joy, he hugged Appius tightly and clamped his eyes shut. It had all been worth it. The training, facing down the slippery freedmen in the imperial palace, surviving every vicious foe in the arena. For this one moment, holding his son tight as a free man, Pavo told himself he would have endured any hardship.

At length he stood painfully upright and smiled at Macro.

‘You’re in a bright mood … for a change.’

‘Course I bloody am, lad.’ Macro waved the scroll in his right hand bearing the wax seal of the Emperor’s office. ‘I’m a centurion now. Best of all, I’m finally heading back to the Rhine Frontier, and this time there’s not a meddling Greek in sight who can stop me.’

‘When did you receive your promotion?’

‘Earlier, while you lot were watching that shit Murena get nailed to a cross. Bucco asked me to stop by his lodgings in the Subura and bring Appius to you. I was more than happy to do so.’

‘Things worked out rather well for us both in the end, Macro. Or should I say, Centurion.’

‘Not too bad, I suppose.’ The newly promoted centurion patted his chest. ‘The Emperor gave me a thousand sestertii to go with the promotion. Very generous of him, that. It’s a long trek back to the Rhine and I’ll need the company of a few cheap tarts along the way.’

‘You’ll be leaving soon, then?’

Macro nodded as he tucked the scroll into his sidebag. ‘At dawn.’ He looked up and considered Pavo for a moment. ‘What’re you going to do now? Seeing as you’re a freedman and all.’

‘I’m a freed
gladiator
, Macro. There’s a difference. Rome’s social mores forbid me from returning to my former elevated standing.’

‘Bollocks to social mores, lad! You’re the most popular gladiator Rome has ever seen. They’ll be talking of the way you fought back from the brink to defeat Hermes for years to come.’

Pavo smiled weakly. The centurion was right. Other gladiators had been popular with the mob, but as a high-born man Pavo carried a unique appeal. His feats had gone some way to restoring pride to the Valerius family name. Along with the return of his estate in Antium, Pavo received an urn filled with coins from the Emperor for his victory over Hermes, which he put to good use. He set aside a small sum for a proper grave and monument to be built on the Appian Way in honour of his father, with the balance going to the gladiators’ guild, so that others who fell on the sand could be spared the indignity of being slung into a grave pit. In the wake of his victory Cursor had approached Pavo, offering to act as his trainer and manager, arranging show bouts across the Empire in return for a share of the profits. Pavo had politely turned down the offer.