The Forgotten Legion

  'Thanks!' Remembering Lentulus' last act, Romulus spun round, thrusting his sword through the Thracian's throat. The man choked on blood and toppled to one side, eyes wide with shock. Quickly Romulus grabbed a bone-handled dagger from the dead gladiator's belt. Two weapons were always better than one.

  When he looked back, Sextus was gone.

  'Well fought!' Brennus walked over, breathing heavily. He was covered from head to foot in blood.

  Romulus glanced round for enemy fighters. Seeing none nearby, he relaxed slightly. 'The fight's nearly over,' he said with satisfaction. 'Thanks to you.'

  Brennus nodded in acknowledgement. 'Kill or be killed,' he muttered to himself.

  Romulus did a quick head count: fewer than twenty Dacicus gladiators were still standing. 'It won't take long now.'

  'Let's hope the fools surrender soon,' sighed the Gaul. 'They have no chance of winning.'

  Quite suddenly a net came flying through the air and landed over Brennus' head, weighted folds falling to the sand. The big man struggled to free himself, but his sword tip was caught in the heavy mesh. A vicious trident thrust followed and Brennus barely managed to avoid being gutted.

  Instinctively Romulus slashed down with his gladius, severing the attacker's arm at the elbow. Shocked to recognise one of the Magnus retiarii, he did not pause. A swift kick to the groin knocked the maimed gladiator to the sand.

  'Look out!' Brennus dropped his longsword and grabbed at strands of the net to lift it off.

  Romulus saw movement from the corner of his eye. Alarmed, he turned to face Gallus, who was flanked by Figulus and two other grim-faced fighters, a Thracian and a Samnite. Bloody weapons were in their hands.

  'On your own now, scum!' The retiarius lunged with his trident.

  'I should have knifed you instead of the Dacicus gladiator,' replied Romulus, dodging to one side.

  'Missed your chance,' sneered Gallus.

  Keeping himself between Brennus and the attackers, Romulus shuffled backwards. The retiarius laughed, thinking Romulus was trying to get away.

  Without thinking, Romulus stabbed his sword into the sand, drew the new knife and flung it.

  The gladiators paused, surprised.

  Gallus stopped abruptly, making a strange gurgling sound. A bone handle protruded from his throat. With a faintly startled expression, the stocky fighter dropped to the ground, killed the same way as his first opponent.

  Freeing himself, Brennus moved to stand alongside Romulus. 'Three against two. Good enough odds, I reckon!'

  'Vulcan's prick! You said Gallus would net the big bastard!' The Samnite on Figulus' left shuffled his feet nervously in the sand.

  'Why didn't you gut him when he was down, idiot?' The Thracian licked dry lips, but did not back away. 'Let's end this!'

  'Finished squabbling?' Brennus smiled grimly and charged.

  Romulus was only a step behind.

  The Samnite took one look and turned to run. As he did, Sextus appeared as if from nowhere. With a huge swing of his axe, he cut the man's head clean off. A fountain of blood sprayed into the air from the headless torso, which fell twitching on to Gallus' body.

  The sand all around was stained crimson with the blood of countless Dacicus gladiators. And now those who were supposed to be on his side. Gallus. The Samnite. Men are dying in droves. For what? thought Romulus.

  Figulus threw his shield at Brennus and sprinted to safety, leaving the last of his cronies alone. The man paled as the three friends advanced.

  'I surrender!' Dropping his weapon, the murmillo fell to his knees.

  'Try to kill one of your own, eh?' Brennus raised the longsword high and brought it down on the man's left shoulder, breaking the clavicle.

  The murmillo let out a high-pitched scream, the sound echoing loudly. Romulus realised the arena had gone quiet. All the fighting was over. The entire audience was now watching them.

  'Let him live, Brennus.' Sextus had noticed too. 'It's over. He has asked for mercy.' The scissores stood back, planting his bloody axe on the sand. 'Memor will be observing.'

  'This piece of shit is a traitor to our familia!' spat the Gaul. 'Loyalty is everything. Without it we are nothing.'

  'It's not worth it,' Romulus said tiredly. He was revolted by the number of bodies, scattered like discarded puppets. 'Enough men have died.'

  There was a long pause. Brennus was trembling with rage.

  'Brennus!'

  At last the Gaul seemed to hear and the fire in his blue eyes subsided.

  The murmillo quickly raised a forefinger, but the crowd jeered at the appeal for mercy. This was not what they had come to see.

  Romulus was disgusted. No one cared that the injured fighter was actually one of their own men. The mob wanted blood and it did not matter whose it was.

  This is no way to live my life.

  Brennus had also had enough. He lowered his longsword and stepped back, ignoring the shouts.

  Across the arena, all surviving Dacicus fighters had thrown down their weapons, pleading for mercy. Fewer than fifteen remained living.

  Twenty-four Magnus gladiators were uninjured; another half-dozen were lying screaming in pain, but would live to fight another day.

  Trumpets rang out, silencing the clamour. The portly master of ceremonies stepped forward again.

  'Victory goes to the Lu-dus Mag-nus!' he announced.

  Brennus, Romulus and the others raised bloody swords in acknowledgement. The responding roars completely drowned out the cries of the wounded and dying. Rome cared not for the victims.

  'What a slaughter.' Disgusted, Romulus looked at the open red mouths in the baying crowd. 'Nearly sixty men have died for this?'

  Brennus was fully in control of himself now, the battle frenzy replaced by his customary poise. He stared at his right arm, bloody to the elbow. 'Pompey deserves it more than this poor bastard, I suppose,' he said heavily, nudging the headless Samnite with one foot.

  'Yes. He does!' hissed Romulus.

  The announcer held up both podgy arms for quiet. 'I give you – the illustrious general Pompey Magnus!'

  There was dutiful cheering as Pompey rose to speak again. The middleaged consul stood in silence for a moment, enjoying the applause. He acknowledged it with regal waves, and the people responded with a more fervent display of gratitude to Pompey. The brutal mass combat had satisfied their bloodlust.

  'Knows how to work the crowd as well as Caesar,' said Brennus.

  Romulus clenched his fists. 'They are all bastards!' he replied. His exhaustion had been replaced by a desperate desire to show Pompey how it felt to be butchered. But images of the venator's death were too vivid. He would end up the same way. A plan was needed.

  'People of Rome!' Pompey raised his arms. Enthusiastic screams greeted him. 'What a spectacle we have seen here today! All for you. Citizens of the Republic!' Deafening applause followed.

  Pompey smiled, clicking two fingers together. Slaves bearing a bronze tray laden with money bags materialised at his side.

  'Let those from the winning side come forward!' The announcer sounded disdainful. 'Only those with no wounds may approach!'

  The able-bodied fighters grouped together, heads held high. They walked to stand in front of the box, saluting Pompey with clenched fists. Even Romulus felt a brief surge of pride at having survived the slaughter. It was hard not to.

  'You have fought bravely,' Pompey said approvingly. 'Those who show such courage deserve suitable reward.' He picked up a leather bag and tossed it into the air.

  Sextus grabbed the first, stepping back with a broad grin. Purses landed until every man had received one. Rapturous cheering continued long after Pompey had finished throwing. People had enjoyed the extravagant contest more than usual. The fighters waved swords, smiled and laughed, unused to such adulation.

  It did not last.

  With an impatient gesture, the master of ceremonies motioned for them to leave the arena. Their moment of glory was over; the gladi
ators were mere slaves again.

  'It's heavy.' Romulus hefted his prize with both hands. 'How much is in it?'

  Brennus shrugged. 'Couple of thousand sestertii maybe.'

  'A bargain,' Romulus said, full of fury once more. 'We are better than this.' He shook the bag. It made a jingling sound. The price of men's lives.

  Brennus shot him a glance. 'Too many ears around still,' he muttered.

  Romulus fell silent. There was no point being reckless.

  'Enough to buy wine and whores for the next few months!' Sextus was grinning from ear to ear.

  'Thanks for getting Romulus out of that tight spot.'

  'You saved my hide last year, remember?'

  Brennus shrugged. 'Anyone would have done the same.'

  'Except they wouldn't,' replied the scissores swiftly. 'It's a shame Figulus survived, though. A poisonous snake, that one.'

  'Bastard will be stirring up more trouble in no time.' Brennus watched Figulus with narrowed eyes. 'I know it.'

  'Won't be happy until he has killed you,' sighed Sextus. 'And raped Astoria.'

  The words were inflammatory.

  Brennus raised his sword. 'I'll just go and kill him. Get it over with.'

  He was interrupted by Memor, who appeared on the sand alone. 'The fight was over!' he screeched. 'One of the familia was pleading for his life. And what did you do?'

  The Gaul did not answer.

  'You maimed him!'

  'He and his sewer rat friends attacked me and Romulus,' replied Brennus. 'They were going to kill us both.'

  'It must have been a mistake,' cried Memor, waving his hands. 'They mistook you for Dacicus fighters.' Clearly he had not seen the start of the altercation.

  'It was all planned.'

  The lanista ignored his answer. 'When a man pleads for mercy, you do not say what happens.' Memor pointed at the dignitaries' box, shaking with anger. 'Pompey decides!' He waved a fist at the Gaul.

  Brennus clenched his jaw.

  'All special rights are withdrawn! Astoria can go back to the kitchen where she belongs. I'm taking back your cell too,' Memor sneered. 'Bunk in with some of the others. See how you like it.'

  Brennus took a step towards the lanista, longsword raised. 'I ought to cut your throat.'

  Memor simply lifted a hand.

  Archers on top of the hoarding raised drawn bows.

  'Do exactly as I say, or get a belly full of arrows.' The lanista paused. 'And you might stop that black bitch being sold to the Lupanar tomorrow morning.'

  Brennus went rigid.

  Memor waited.

  Romulus watched the standoff with bated breath. There was no way to stop the lanista without also dying.

  At last Brennus stepped back.

  Memor stared at the big slave for a few moments. Satisfied Brennus wasn't going to take the bait, he stalked from the arena. 'Get back to the cells,' he snarled over his shoulder.

  'Son of a whore!' Brennus spat. 'I'll slice him open and make him eat his own guts.'

  'It would be good to see that,' Sextus said with a sad smile. 'But you'd be crucified alongside Astoria before the day was over.'

  'What can I do?' Brennus' tone was despairing, something Romulus had never heard before. 'I can look after myself, but Astoria needs me.'

  'I will care for her.'

  'Why?'

  'I also hate Memor,' Sextus said calmly. 'Astoria will be safe until you win favour again.'

  Hearing this, Romulus nearly said something. They would need allies and it seemed the scissores might be of similar mind. But it was a dangerous matter, one to be discussed in private, behind locked doors.

  'Take an oath!' Brennus moved closer, eyes fixed on the other's.

  'Before all my gods, I swear it.'

  The two men clasped forearms, but it was no time for sentimentality.

  'Let's get inside before those archers get restless.'

  Sextus strode off to gather his men.

  Romulus was trying to think of ways to win over enough gladiators to silence Memor for ever. There is no future in this, he thought, gazing at the bloody figures on the sand. Spartacus had the right idea. Seize freedom.

  The setting sun had turned the dead a dark shade of crimson. As they watched, the intimidating shape of Charon entered, stopping purposefully by each corpse. Each time the ferryman's hammer came down, Romulus heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone.

  He looked away.

  'Claiming them for Hades.' Brennus curled his lip. 'Making sure none are playing dead.' He leaned in close. 'Lucky not to be lying there myself. That retiarius would have done for me. I'm in your debt, Romulus. Again.'

  'It was nothing.' Feeling awkward, he changed the subject. 'Memor really has it in for you, eh?'

  'The bastard has been waiting for me to step out of line. This just gave him an excuse to finish it. With Figulus and friends out for blood as well . . .' Brennus wiped his brow. 'Life will be quite interesting from now on.'

  'I meant what I said earlier.'

  'Freedom?' Brennus' face brightened, then sagged as he thought of Astoria. 'Impossible.'

  Romulus sighed. The futility of gladiator life had been brought home as never before by the mass combat. He needed support to have any chance of escape and the Gaul was crucial to this. But Memor's punishment seemed to have knocked the fight out of him. He would have to be patient and work on Brennus gradually. Men would follow more easily if the ludus' champion fighter was involved.

  Romulus would not rest until he was free.

  In the rest days that followed, Memor swaggered round the school, a broad grin on his scarred face. He had received a large sum from Pompey and the victory would have gained the ludus considerable respect in the Roman public's eyes.

  For three days all the gladiators except Brennus were rewarded with extra rations of food and wine. Prostitutes were allowed to visit their cells. Training sessions for those who had fought were cut to just one hour daily. The baths were open to all, a privilege normally reserved for elite fighters. These gestures were universally acclaimed by the tired men, who had risked their lives yet again for the honour of the ludus.

  'Out of my sight, you little bastard!' Memor scowled one afternoon as he caught sight of Romulus. The lanista suspected he had played a part in the deaths of Gallus and the others but had no proof. 'Plotting to kill more of my best fighters?'

  Romulus did not dare answer. He ducked back into the small cell he and Brennus were sharing with two veteran Thracians. The homosexual pair had remained neutral since the fight over Astoria which had started the bloody vendetta. Otho and Antonius were already marginalised by the intolerant familia and two more outcasts did not trouble them.

  When the quiet offer had come their way, the friends had seized the chance. Thanks to Memor's veiled threats, there had been no other options of accommodation. Life in the ludus had suddenly become difficult, and a safe place to sleep made things a little easier. Romulus for one found the Thracians' company quite entertaining. Otho was tall and thin with an ascetic manner. Antonius was plump and effeminate, but deadly with a sword.