The exits were heaving with spectators desperate to escape the wrath of the beast. At the imperial box on the other side of the arena the Emperor looked dumbfounded. The German bodyguards forced Claudius to his feet and escorted him towards the private exit. Murena, clearly rattled, shouted an order at the guards manning the gates. They frantically disappeared down the passageway as the creature clawed the patrician’s bloodied body.
‘We have to do something,’ Pavo urged. ‘The bear isn’t going to stop until it’s killed everyone in sight.’
‘No need, Roman,’ Amadocus replied. ‘Look.’
He pointed to the Praetorians emerging from the gate and cautiously approaching the bear. Each man brandished a hunting spear seized from the arena armoury. The guards closed round the bear in a rough circle, stabbing at it with their spears, confounding the creature. One of the guards plunged his spear deep into its side. Blood flowed out of the wound and gushed over the sand. The bear howled horribly as the other Praetorians encircled it, thrusting at the beast repeatedly. At last the bear let out a faint whimper and dropped to the sand.
Nerva rushed out of the passageway, spitting with fury.
‘The beast fights are off!’ the official barked at Pavo and Amadocus.
‘We’re not going to fight?’ the young gladiator asked.
‘Are you mad?’ Nerva gestured towards the patrician’s mangled body. ‘After that? Can’t have fine upstanding Roman citizens getting mauled to death in the arena. Bad for business. If the spectators aren’t safe during the fights, then the mob will stay away.’ As if suddenly remembering something, he turned back to the passageway and snapped his fingers at a gathering of acrobats. ‘You lot, get out here and for gods’ sakes do something to distract the crowd!’
Pavo and Amadocus looked at the official.
‘Does this mean our part in the games is over?’ the Thracian asked hopefully.
Nerva laughed bitterly. ‘No such luck. You’re to be returned to your cells in the imperial ludus, along with the other fighters.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s going to be a busy afternoon tomorrow, I tell you. There are sixty men listed to appear then.’
‘Listed to appear in what?’ Pavo asked nervously.
‘The group fight,’ replied the official.
‘P
ssst! Wake up!’
Pavo stirred drowsily in his cell. He’d fallen asleep on the thin bedroll as soon as the guards had slammed the door shut, drained from the stress of the day’s combat. Every bone in his body ached dully as he sat upright. He squinted at the gloom and saw a figure crouched outside the door, his piercing eyes reflecting the moonlight filtering in through a slit in the cell wall. The broad stripes of his tunic were faintly visible under his cloak. Pavo recognised the face as the elderly senator he’d seen arriving late to his seat in the galleries. The senator stared back at him, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
‘Thank the gods. I thought you might be dead.’
‘Who are you?’ Pavo asked wearily.
The senator ignored the question as he ran his eyes over the gladiator and sounded a note of approval. ‘You’ve shaped up nicely, I see. Titus always did say that the mark of a good Roman was one who understood the value of physical exercise. Not like those slobs you get these days, stuffing their bellies in the taverns. Here.’
The senator slipped a bundle through the bars, anxiously peering down the dimly lit corridor to make sure he wasn’t being watched.
‘Some food. To help you regain your strength.’
Pavo eagerly took the parcel. It was still warm. His belly rumbled noisily as he unwrapped the cloth and several chunks of stale bread and cooked meat tumbled into his lap. He hesitated to tuck into the food. He looked back at the senator, quickly sizing him up.
‘I saw you fight this morning,’ the senator continued. ‘I must say, that was an impressive display. And I’m speaking as someone who was never very fond of gladiatorial sport.’
‘That makes two of us.’
‘You’re probably wondering why I’ve taken the considerable trouble to pay you, the son of a disgraced legate, a visit. My name is Numerius Porcius Lanatus,’ the senator declared in a stately voice. He had that annoying habit, Pavo noted, of answering a question other than the one being asked, a trait characteristic of all senators.
‘Good for you, Porcius Lanatus,’ Pavo responded.
‘My name means nothing to you?’ Lanatus asked. Seeing the blank look on the face of the young gladiator, he clasped his hands beneath his chin and considered Pavo at length. ‘I was a friend of your late father, in the days when Titus was a mere military tribune and I was a provincial governor. Things were different then, but Titus and I were quite close. Perhaps he spoke of me.’
‘Not that I can remember.’
Lanatus smiled softly. ‘By the time you were born, I had already returned to Rome. I must admit, I was disappointed when your father decided to pursue a career in the military rather than join me in the Senate. Titus would have made an effective politician. But then he always did prefer swords to styluses. Much like his son, it seems.’
‘The choice isn’t exactly mine. Claudius sentenced me to die as a gladiator after they killed my father. Now they’ve condemned me to the group fight tomorrow. All I can do is make my peace with the gods and pray for a quick death.’
‘Yes,’ Lanatus said slowly. ‘I’ve heard about the Emperor’s plans for you. It seems terribly unfair, but then Claudius can’t be trusted to keep his word. He’ll do whatever it takes to secure the fawning adulation of the mob. Just like Caligula and Tiberius did before him. He’s also beholden to those grubby Greek freedmen he insists on surrounding himself with. At any rate, I gather the mob is itching to see you fight.’
Pavo craned his neck to stare past the senator down the corridor. ‘How did you manage to sneak past the guards? Only the imperial lanista and his staff are permitted to enter the ludus.’
‘The duty guard is a fellow sympathiser.’
Pavo looked at the senator carefully. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘He shares a certain attachment to republican values, as should all good, principled men. Especially fellows like you who have suffered greatly from the tyranny of the emperors.’
Pavo was silent for a moment. ‘Some might call that treason.’
‘True.’ The senator nodded. ‘Others might call it patriotism. That is, those of us who refer to ourselves as the Liberators.’
Pavo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Placing the food to one side, he looked at the senator, his expression suddenly severe. ‘Liberators, you say? Snakes would be a more apt description. You people are the reason my father is dead and I’m imprisoned in this cell waiting to be killed by a gang of barbarians. Get out of my sight.’
The senator shook his head sadly. ‘That’s no way to talk to a dear friend of your father’s. Aren’t you at least interested in what I have to say? After all, Titus shared our dream of returning Rome to the glorious days of the Republic.’
‘What my father wanted was an end to the corruption.’ Pavo was curt. ‘He despised the regime for building lavish palaces while the soldiers under his command went without pay. He was concerned for the welfare of his men, not back-stabbing politics.’
‘And we supported him fully in his endeavours,’ Lanatus insisted.
Pavo snorted disdainfully. ‘Where were you and the rest of the so-called Liberators when my father rose up against the Emperor?’
Lanatus’s face darkened. ‘We couldn’t take the risk of publicly declaring our support for Titus. What do you think would have happened if we’d all come out of the woodwork and rallied around him? The Emperor would have executed us all.’
Pavo glowered at Lanatus. ‘My father would still be here if it wasn’t for you.’
‘Titus sacrificed his life for Rome. I know his death pains you, but the Liberators are committed to realising his dream of a restored republic. That should be your dream too, if you truly honour him.’
‘I’ve heard enough!’ Pavo looked away, tasting a bitter tang in the back of his mouth. As someone who’d been born into great wealth, who’d lost everything and lived and fought among men regarded as the lowest form of human life, he felt he had a unique perspective on Rome and its political feuding. His sharp mind discerned how statesmen furthered their own ambitions by making hollow promises that the mob quickly forgot when a new gladiator spectacle was announced. In his mind, Lanatus and Murena were two sides of the same coin. Both were talented liars, destined to rise in Rome – as he himself never would now.
‘I didn’t come here to discuss politics with you,’ Lanatus scolded. ‘Actually, I came to make you an offer.’
‘Then you’re wasting your time. Whatever it is, I’m not interested.’
Lanatus stared back at Pavo. ‘Rash as well as tetchy, aren’t you? That’ll be the Valerius blood in you. But I would caution against dismissing my offer out of hand. You’ll want to hear what I have to say, trust me.’
‘Trust you!’ Pavo laughed. ‘The man who hid behind his papyrus scroll while my father was thrown to his death in the arena?’ He folded his arms and looked away. ‘I’m done listening to you.’
‘You underestimate me, young man.’
Pavo turned slowly back to face Lanatus. The senator looked at him with narrowed eyes as his lips flickered into a quick smile.
‘I have something that will make you listen …’
He reached under his tunic and thrust his hand at Pavo, unclenching his fist to reveal a golden locket with a neck strap. There was an intricately detailed image of Icarus engraved on the front.
‘This belongs to your son, I believe.’
Pavo nodded slowly at the locket. Every Roman boy was given one at birth to protect against evil spirits. His son’s name had been engraved on the reverse, along with the date of his birth. He looked up at Lanatus. ‘Where did you get this?’
The senator snatched the locket back. ‘In due course. First, you must listen to me. I have a special task for you. The Liberators have been waiting for such an opportunity for months. Should you complete this task, then I may be able to help you.’
‘Go on,’ Pavo said warily.
Lanatus stroked the bridge of his nose. ‘As you are no doubt aware, the last remaining survivor of the group fight is declared the winner and presented with a laurel crown by Emperor Claudius in person, along with a modest prize of one thousand sestertii. This gives us an opportunity.’
Pavo frowned. ‘To do what?’
Lanatus glanced down the corridor before replying. ‘Claudius lives in fear. Understandably so, given that his predecessor Caligula was assassinated by members of the Praetorian Guard. The Emperor will be surrounded by his German bodyguards while seated in the imperial box, making it impossible for anyone to get close to him. With one exception, namely the victorious gladiator.’ He paused, allowing his words to sink in. ‘Win the group fight, my boy, and you’ll have a chance to avenge your father, and your family name … by killing Claudius.’
A cold shiver ran through Pavo. He looked at the senator with a mixture of suspicion and unease. And yet the thought of Claudius falling beneath his blade filled him with a strange thrill.
‘Assassinate the Emperor … in front of the mob?’ he whispered.
‘Why not? A tyrant like Claudius deserves to die on the grand stage.’
‘Perhaps. But even if I wanted to help, you’re forgetting that there are sixty of us due to take part in the group fight. Nerva says only the last man standing survives. What if I get cut down? Then your plan is in tatters.’
‘Ah, but that’s the beauty of the group fights. You’ll find yourself up against the dregs, the lowest of the low! Men with only basic training in how to hold a sword. And then there’s you, with a reputation as one of the finest swordsmen ever to have appeared in the arena. To be honest, I was sceptical about your abilities. A boy born into a notable household, possessing an unnatural talent with the sword, seemed a rather far-fetched proposition. Until I saw you fight with my own eyes today. You showed admirable courage, skill and quick thinking to defeat that lion. I’m sure you can overcome the other gladiators tomorrow.’
‘Perhaps. But what do I get out of this?’
‘Revenge! It’s well known that Claudius personally sanctioned your father’s death. What greater prize could you wish for than the chance to kill the Emperor?’
‘My fight isn’t with Claudius. He’s just some slobbering old fool. It’s Hermes I’m after. He’s the one who murdered my father. Hermes is the one I want to kill, not the Emperor.’
‘Arranging a fight between you and Hermes is beyond my powers. He’s reputed to be the greatest gladiator who ever lived. As such he enjoys unrivalled status and celebrity. I understand Caligula once tried to lure him out of retirement. Hermes refused outright. Caligula was outraged, but then he realised that any move against Hermes might be a step too far for the Roman mob.’
‘But Hermes
has
come out of retirement. He’s scheduled to fight at the games. Murena told me so.’
‘Correct. He is, however, scheduled to fight another opponent to be personally selected by Claudius. I can do nothing about Hermes, I’m afraid. But I can assist you in another matter.’
Pavo cocked his head at Lanatus. His mouth felt very dry.
‘I understand that your son is to be killed tomorrow. Thrown to the beasts. At least he would have been, were it not for that unpleasant incident with the bear today.’
‘It doesn’t change a thing. Murena and Pallas won’t spare Appius. Those heartless Greek bastards will find some other way of killing him.’
‘They already have. He’s to be flung from the Tarpeian Rock tomorrow. It seems both the imperial secretary and his aide are keen to kill anyone who carries the Valerius name.’
Pavo considered. ‘You said you would help me. How?’
Lanatus smiled slightly. ‘Your son is at the imperial palace. How else do you think I discovered this locket?’
Hope and fear pounded inside Pavo’s skull. He wanted to believe there was a chance to save Appius. He narrowed his gaze at the senator. The elderly man’s eyes glinted as he went on.