The Gladiator (37 page)

As the warship eased its way further into the bay, Cato called to the navarch and indicated the
Horus,
still beached some distance along the shore. ‘Head over there. The bottom’s sandy and shelves gently’

The navarch nodded and ordered the steersman to alter course, and the
Triton
swung gracefully round, oars dipping into the clear water in unison. Fulvius was still staring towards the ruins.

‘Odd,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s no sign of life at all. You’d think someone would have spotted us and called attention to the garrison commander. Or the other townspeople at least.’

Cato looked again at the port. ‘You’re right. I can’t see a soul.’

‘Best proceed cautiously when we get ashore then,’ Fulvius decided. ‘Just in case.’

They were interrupted by a bellowed command from the navarch as he ordered all the idle hands, marines and legionaries to move aft of the mast. As the men shuffled towards the stern, the ram slowly rose clear of the water, and after a few more strokes of the oars the navarch cupped his hands to his mouth. ‘Ship the oars! Prepare to beach!’

T h e blades rose clear of the water and were run in as the warship continued forward. The deck shuddered slightly as the keel touched the sandy bottom, and carried on a little way before the friction killed the last of the ship’s momentum.

‘Marines forward! Lower the gangways!’

While the marines heaved the narrow ramps down from the gaps in the wooden side rails at the bow, the other warships began to beach on either side. Looking back towards the entrance of the bay, Cato saw the cargo ships cautiously approaching under minimal sail. They had too great a draught to beach and would have to anchor a short distance out and wait for the smaller vessels to ferry the men, horses and equipment ashore.

Centurion Fulvius had put on his helmet and was fastening the straps. He nodded to Cato. ‘Best get your kit on. I’ll have my lads ready to recce the city the moment we get on dry land.’

Cato struggled into a chainmail vest, strapped on his sword and put on his helmet before joining Fulvius and the legionaries assembling by the gangways. In addition to their usual complement, each of the warships was carrying two centuries of legionaries and the men were jostling to get ashore as quickly as possible after having spent the past few days crowded on to the open decks.The marines had already disembarked and run up the sand to form a skirmish line. When he was happy that his men were ready, Fulvius called out the order. ‘Right then, boys, get ashore. One man on each gangway at a time, unless you want to land in the drink.’

Some of the men laughed or smiled at the warning as the first of them carefully made their way down the narrow gangways and on to the sand. Fulvius looked towards the port again. ‘Still nothing. It’s looking a bit worrying, I’d say’

Cato did not reply, but inside he felt the familiar tightening of his guts as he let his mind contemplate the possible reasons for the stillness and silence of the port. He stood and waited his turn as the men disembarked, and then followed Fulvius down on to the beach. The optios were already forming the men up as they disembarked from the warships. Once the first cohort was ready, Fulvius gave the order to advance, and they began to march warily down the beach towards the port, following the same route Cato had taken when the
Horus
had limped into the bay after being swamped by the wave. The cohort had to break ranks to negotiate the rubble and debris when the men reached the edge of the port area. Despite the occasional shouted orders and the clatter of kit as nearly five hundred men picked their way forwards, no one came to investigate. The sense of foreboding was greater than ever, and Cato gripped the handle ofhis sword as he accompanied Fulvius up the shallow ravine towards the main town.

The streets were still and silent and Cato looked up as the acropolis came into view, but the walls were empty; not a single man visible on watch, or guarding the gates, which were wide open. The only sign of any life was a small swirl of dark birds over the acropolis.

‘Where is everyone?’ asked Fulvius. He turned to Cato. ‘Could they have left? Has Sempronius ordered them to head for Gortyna maybe?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t see why he would.’

They continued through the streets, towards the acropolis, and began to ascend the ramp. A faint breeze wafted down the slope, carrying with it a sickly stench. Fulvius, Cato and the leading section of the cohort stopped abruptly. Fulvius went to draw his sword, and then stilled his hand and swallowed hard instead.

‘Keep moving,’ he growled at his men, and they carried on up the ramp towards the open gateway. As they passed through the arch, the foul smell was overpowering. A handful of startled carrion birds squawked and flapped into the air as the first men into the acropolis drew up and stared at the ghastly scene before them.The entire space within the walls was covered with bodies, mottled and bloated with decay. The paving stones were dark with dried blood, and further away from Cato and the others, the carrion continued to worry at the corpses with their beaks and claws. Nobody had been spared. Not the old and infirm, not the women, nor the children. All had been hacked to death.

Cato covered his mouth and nose as he looked about. ‘What the hell happened here?’ Fulvius muttered. ‘The rebels must have attacked and found a way in,’ Cato guessed.

‘That’s why they’re all in the acropolis, and not at the refugee camp outside the city.’

‘I thought you said they would be safe up here.’ ‘They should have been. It doesn’t make sense.’ Both men were silent for a moment as they gazed at the scene of the massacre. Then Fulvius scratched his chin nervously. ‘If the rebels could take Matala, then we have to assume that Gortyna is also in danger.’

Cato felt an icy spasm in his neck. Gortyna . . . Julia and Macro . . . He felt sick with despair and uncertainty. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and turned to Fulvius.

‘We have to get the rest of the column ashore at once and make for Gortyna before it’s too late.’

‘It may already be too late.’

Cato was stung by the implication of the other man’s words. ‘In that case,’ he responded with chilling intensity, ‘we still march on Gortyna. We will not rest until every last one of the rebels has paid for this with their lives.’

Is there nothing that can be done to save him?’ asked Ajax as they emerged from the farmhouse. Kharim wiped the traces of blood and pus from his hands with a linen rag, and then shook his head.

‘I’m sorry, it’s in the hands of the gods now. You might want to make a sacrifice to Asclepius and pray for his help. I have done all that I can for Chilo, but his wound has become corrupted. I’ve seen it before, as have you. It will fester and poison his blood and he will die. I’m sorry.’

‘I see.’ Ajax nodded with a weary air of resignation.

It pained Kharim to see the gladiator brought low by this, amongst all the other burdens of command that rested on his powerful shoulders. It had been five days since the rebel army had arrived before the walls of Gortyna and Ajax had launched his surprise attack. It had cost the rebels dearly. Over two hundred of Chilo’s band had been killed or wounded, and many of the survivors had been crippled by running on to the caltrops as they retreated into the night.The mood in the rebel camp had soured, and though Ajax was determined to make another attempt to take the city by force, he was aware that his followers had been shaken by the failure of the first night.

It had been their first major setback since the outbreak of the rebellion, and Ajax was forced to realise that there were limits to what could be asked of men and women who had had no experience of the hardships of conflict. They had been intoxicated by freedom and fanatical in their defence of it. But fanaticism was not enough when what Ajax really needed was men trained in the art of siege warfare and disciplined enough to carry an assault through in spite of the dangers. Besides, fanaticism was a fickle thing, he had discovered. The initial fearlessness and ferocity of the early days of the revolt had begun to give way to a simple desire to live well and enjoy the luxuries they had looted from their former masters.

Ajax clasped Kharim’s shoulder. ‘I thank you for doing what you could for Chilo.’

‘You don’t have to thank me, General.’ Kharim smiled sadly. ‘Chilo is as a brother to me, as he is to you. His men love him. This has hit them hard. I wish I had the skills to save him.’

‘I thank you anyway.’ Ajax stared at his companion for a moment. ‘I need a new man to take over from Chilo.’

It was the first mention of such a thing, and Kharim realised that his leader now accepted that Chilo would not recover.

‘Who do you have in mind?’ Kharim asked. ‘I am not sure yet. My first thought was you.’ ‘Me?’ ‘Why not? You fight as well as you practise your healing skills. And you are loyal to me, are you not?’ ‘Do you have to ask?’ Kharim responded with a pained expression. ‘No. I am sorry, my friend. I did not mean to slight you. Sometimes I slip back into the blunt frame of mind of a common gladiator.’ ‘There is nothing common about you,’ Kharim replied, and gestured to the camp surrounding them. ‘Ask anyone. Do you know, I have even heard some ofthe women praying to you?As ifyou were some kind of a god, or a king.’ Ajax frowned. ‘That is foolishness. We are free now, we are not beholden to anyone but ourselves.’ Kharim looked at him. ‘You believe that, and that is why they love you and will follow where you will lead.’ T h e gladiator drew himself up and briefly surveyed the nearest cluster of tents and shelters where the former slaves sat at their ease. Some talked, some simply sat and looked at the world around them as if seeing it anew. A handful of children were playing around a cage to one side of the farmhouse, goading the prisoners with sticks. It was a peaceful scene of contentment, yet Ajax knew it could not last. He turned back to Kharim.

‘Pass the word. I want the leaders of all the war bands to meet in the garden at dusk. We must talk. There are choices that must be made. Commitments to be renewed. You understand?’

‘Yes, General. I will tell them.’

Kharim turned and strode away, towards the area of the camp where his war band had set up their shelters. Ajax watched him a moment and then turned to go back inside the farmhouse. He passed through the colonnaded hall with the shallow pond at its centre. Once that had been fed by rainwater from the roof, but the earthquake had left a large crack in the bottom, and now it was dry and filled with cracked plaster, dust and a handful of smashed tiles that had fallen in from the roof. He made his way towards the best bedroom in the house, where Chilo lay on a soft bedroll. Despite having the windows open on both sides of the room, the air was warm, and as Ajax approached, a sickening tang assaulted his nostrils. He hid his distaste as he knelt down beside Chilo.

Chilo’s skin was waxy and glistened with perspiration. He lay with a fine robe covering his body as far as his chest, hiding his wound. Sensing the gladiator’s presence, he opened his eyes, struggled to focus and forced a smile.

‘General, I wondered when you’d come to see me.’ He spoke softly, a slight rasp to his words.

‘I was here just a moment ago.’ ‘Were you?’ Chilo frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’ ‘It’s the poison in your blood,’ Ajax explained. ‘It’s playing tricks with your mind.’ ‘Ah.’ Chilo reached out his hand and took that of Ajax. His touch was hot and feverish, and Ajax forced himself not to recoil. Chilo smiled. ‘Well you are here now, at the end.’

‘Yes.’ ‘It’s been too short a time to have known you, my general.’ ‘And you, my friend.’ ‘Friend?’ Chilo smiled contentedly. ‘Thank you.’ His eyes moistened and he looked away. ‘There’s no shame in tears, Chilo.We have seen enough suffering in our time to justify a river of tears.’ Chilo nodded. ‘Suffering, and joy.’ Joy?’ ‘I found you, my general.You gave me freedom, and revenge.’ Ajax felt his throat constrict with a slight burning sensation. He swallowed before he could trust himself to speak. He leaned forward slightly and stroked the lank hair plastered to Chilo’s scalp.

Chilo suddenly clenched his eyes tightly shut and grimaced, and his body went rigid. His fingers clamped tightly round Ajax’s hand as he fought the wave of agony burning through his body. Slowly it passed and he went limp. The pulse in his neck throbbed as sweat trickled from his brow. At length his breathing became calm and his gaze flickered back to Ajax.

‘ I ‘ m sorry.’ ‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘I cannot fight at your side any more.’ ‘I know. I will not forget you.’ Ajax paused. ‘You saved my life.

Why?’ ‘Why?’ Chilo frowned. ‘Because you are as a brother to me.’ Ajax nodded slowly. ‘I must go now. I’ll come back later and we can talk again.’ ‘Thank you.’ Chilo glanced across the room to where his armour and weapons still lay against the wall. ‘Before you go, could you bring those over here, beside the bed.’

Ajax glanced at the weapons. ‘Why?’

‘My sword still has Roman blood on it. If I feel strong enough, I might want to clean the blade.’

Ajax stared at him a moment and then nodded slowly. ‘Very well.’

He collected the weapons, and Chilo’s mail vest, and laid them gently on the floor beside him. ‘There.’

‘Thank you,’ Chilo replied softly, as he stared fixedly at the ceiling.

With a heavy heart Ajax headed towards the door, pausing on the threshold. ‘I will see you again, my brother.’

‘Yes,’ Chilo replied, and then whispered. ‘In this life . . . or the next.’

Outside, Ajax stood still for a moment, wondering if he should go back to Chilo. It took all his strength of will to resist the notion. Chilo was in great pain and he was dying. If he chose to end his life then so it was. He was free to decide. That was what he had given his life for. Even so, there was a great heaviness in the gladiator’s heart, which soon turned to bitterness and hatred. He looked towards the cage, where the children had given up poking the prisoners with sticks and now squatted down at arm’s length to watch the Romans and laugh at their wretched condition.