The Forgotten Legion - Kane Ben - Страница 43

• Предыдущая
• 43/109
• Следующая

'Never let anger control you.' Romulus skipped neatly to one side and lunged forward, forcing the Gaul to retreat several steps.

Brennus laughed. 'Trying to teach me? Eat this!' With a sweep of his sandal, he kicked a cloud of sand at Romulus' face.

The young fighter saw the move coming just a fraction too late. Yellow grains filled his vision. He dodged to the left, knowing the big man had bested him.

'Dead meat,' said Brennus, pricking Romulus' throat with the tip of the blade.

He rubbed angrily at reddened eyes, coughing to clear his throat.

'Watch your enemy's expression.' Brennus poked a thick finger at him. 'He'll always give away something. A frown, a sideways glance. Use it to predict what he does.'

'I knew you were going to do that.'

'Doesn't matter this time,' replied the Gaul with a grin. 'It wasn't real.' He sheathed his sword, brushing the sand off. 'That's enough for now. Let's go and wash.'

For once Romulus was glad to relax. He followed Brennus across the yard, determined not to be caught out again. Several men greeted them as they walked by. The duel with Lentulus had earned Romulus considerable respect, which helped preserve the uneasy truce that had been simmering since the fight over Astoria. The majority had not cared about the murmillones' deaths, but would not take sides either.

Undeterred, Figulus and Gallus had been busy stirring up discontent among a select few and eventually it had become noticeable. At first it was only small things – vinegar poured in Brennus' wine, a foot stuck out to trip Romulus, straying hands touching Astoria's breasts. Tension had been rising steadily and Romulus had taken to wearing a dagger again at all times. The security he had felt for months after becoming Brennus' friend was being eroded day by day. He fought his worries by pushing himself to new levels of fitness and sparring with the Gaul at every opportunity.

Brennus scratched his thick blond curls. 'I'm surprised Figulus and his cronies haven't made a move before now.'

'They're scared of you.'

'And you!'

Romulus was delighted.

Quickly checking that the lanista was not about, Brennus roared at the small group in the far corner of the yard. 'Anyone feel like taking us on today?'

There were plenty of stares, but nobody spoke.

'It won't be an open fight. There aren't enough of the bastards.'

'I know.' Brennus nudged him. 'Still, doesn't do any harm to give them a warning.'

The big man's attitude was heartening and Romulus pushed open the door of the baths with a smile.

All would be well.

A month later it became clear when the showdown would be. Early one morning, Memor ordered all gladiators to gather together in the yard. It was an odd demand.

The air was already warm even though it was not long after sunrise. Rome had been baking in late summer heat for some weeks. Like most, Romulus and Brennus got up before dawn to exercise while it was still cool. There had been time to complete a full set of weights training before the gathering. The men talked eagerly as they waited. No one knew what was going on.

When Memor appeared, he had a strange smile on his face.

'You're probably all wondering why I called you here.' He paused.

'What is it, Memor?' shouted a fighter near the back.

'Milo needs us to keep Clodius in line again!' cried another.

There was a roar of approval. During the previous spring, with bloodshed on the streets escalating, the tribune Milo had been accused by his rival Clodius of using violence. The action showed breathtaking gall and the trial in the Forum Romanum had been abandoned when a full-scale riot had broken out. Milo's men had quelled the trouble, but with great difficulty. More unrest had followed, providing many gladiators with regular periods outside the ludus.

There had been further need for their services when the consular elections had taken place only a few months before. As Pompey and Crassus blatantly acted together once more to secure the posts for themselves, public disturbances had soared. The travesty of democracy had not stopped there. Pompey was now the effective ruler of Hispania and Greece; Crassus had his governorship of Syria. Caesar had also done well, being granted consular powers over the provinces of Illyricum and Gaul. The triumvirate 's shameless and open criminal behaviour had enraged the people and widespread mayhem had followed.

'No,' Memor snapped dismissively. 'Pompey Magnus has added an extra day of entertainment to his celebratory games.'

'Chariot races!'

'And you have a good tip for us!' added the wit in the crowd.

Everyone laughed.

Even Memor's lined face cracked into a smile. 'Better than that,' he replied. 'An opportunity to show that the Ludus Magnus is truly the best in Rome.' The lanista raised his voice. 'General Pompey wants a special contest! Two groups of fifty against each other.'

'We haven't got a hundred gladiators,' said a murmillo, looking confused.

'Fool!' snapped Memor. 'Fifty of you versus the same number from the Dacicus school.'

'What a fight!' Brennus bared his teeth expectantly.

'This is not a points contest,' he continued. 'Everyone will fight to the death until one side is victorious.'

There were gasps of shock at the most unusual announcement.

'But every man who survives unhurt will receive a bag of gold.' The lanista raised a fist. 'For the Ludus Magnus!'

Faces lit up at the prospect of such wealth, even though many would die in the combat. 'Lu-dus Magnus! Lu-dus Magnus!'

'Look at Figulus,' Romulus whispered. 'The bastards will make their move during it.'

'He does seem very pleased,' agreed Brennus. 'Be a good opportunity too. There 'll be bodies everywhere.'

'A hundred gladiators fighting to kill?'

'Pompey must be feeling the need to impress. You know how it is.' Prominent politicians were always trying to outdo their rivals' efforts.

Romulus nodded. Everyone in Rome knew that the struggle for power was intensifying. But politics paled beside the prospect of such a large fight. Romulus felt both excited and anxious. Most of the spectacles he had taken part in had been for points only. He had slain two men in single combat, but this would be very different. 'Will I be picked?'

'Of course! Need you to watch my back.'

Romulus stared at Figulus, who was deep in conversation with Gallus and a small group of fighters. They must be planning something. Too many evil glances were being cast in their direction.

The following two days passed in a blur of activity as every chosen gladiator prepared for the contest. Virtually all bar those who were injured had been picked. When it was Romulus' turn, Memor did not hesitate before waving him over to those who would take part. In the lanista's mind, the boy had already become a man. Swelling with pride, he joined Brennus.

The smithy rang with the sound of hammers as faulty armour and weapons were repaired. Ignoring the extreme heat, men ran circuits of the yard and lifted weights. Using real weapons instead of the normal wooden training pieces, others sparred ceaselessly with each other. The lanista's archers supervised from the balcony above, eyes peeled for any sign of trouble. Several fighters were injured when training sessions got overheated and Memor ordered leather covers placed on all blades until the combat.

In contrast to most, Brennus spent the day before the combat relaxing and being massaged by the unctor. The cool atmosphere behind the bathhouse walls provided welcome respite from the sun. Feeling unsafe on his own, Romulus joined him.

'You're fit enough. Lie down! Relax.' Brennus groaned with pleasure as his back was pummelled. He indicated the clay jug and beaker on the tiles by the bench. 'Drink some grape juice. It's very good.'

• Предыдущая
• 43/109
• Следующая