Gladiator: Vengeance (3 page)

‘How’s the foot?’ asked Festus as he set his cup down with a sharp rap on the table.

‘Sore.’ Andreas replied and then grinned. ‘How’s your side?’

‘Sore.’

They both laughed and Andreas reached for the jug to top up their cups, and then after a moment’s thought, poured a little more of the watered wine into the cups of Marcus and Lupus. The inn the Greek had chosen had been up a steep side street that led to a small plateau. Built on the edge of a cliff, it overlooked the town and the sparkling sea beyond. A light breeze cooled them after the hot confines of the market and there was a faint rustling from the branches of a cedar tree that provided shade for the customers.

‘You, boy.’ Andreas looked squarely at Marcus. ‘You fight
like a demon. I only saw snatches of it while I was dealing with your friend here, but what I saw was impressive. Your gladiator school must have been one of the best. I’ve seen a few fights in the theatre here, but it was rough stuff compared to the show you two put on. Where are you from, exactly?’

Marcus raised his cup in thanks and took a sip of the vinegary brew before he replied. ‘I was trained at a school near Capua. And then by Festus when I was bought by a new master and taken to Rome.’

‘And you?’ Andreas turned to Lupus. ‘What’s your story? You don’t look the kind of lad who should be in the company of two trained killers.’

‘We’re not killers,’ Festus said evenly. ‘Our job was to protect our master.’

‘Master? I thought you said that you had been freed? Marcus at least.’

Festus smiled thinly. ‘Force of habit. I was set free some years ago and stayed with my … employer. Marcus was given his liberty several months back. A reward for good service. Lupus too.’

‘Then he’s a fighter as well?’ Andreas looked doubtful as he ran his eyes over Lupus’s slight physique. ‘I can’t see it. He wouldn’t last a moment in a fight.’

‘I can fight!’ Lupus shot back defiantly. ‘When I have to.’

The Greek chuckled and held up one of his big hands to pacify the smaller boy. ‘I meant no offence, my little friend. Just an observation. Unless my eyes are deceived your skills lie outside the art of fighting. Am I right?’

Lupus flushed and raised his chin proudly. ‘I am a scribe, by training. I can read, write and do calculations. As good as any man.’

Andreas laughed. ‘I am sure. But outside of a merchant’s house, or in the service of some aristocrat, your usefulness is, er, somewhat limited.’

Marcus leaned forward. ‘Lupus is my friend. I trust him with my life. That is all that you need to know about him.’

It was true. Marcus did indeed trust him with his life. Lupus knew the secret of his birth and the meaning of the scar on his shoulder where he had been branded as an infant to show that he was the son of Spartacus. Lupus had given his most sacred promise to keep it to himself. But Festus did not know. Nor could he ever know, Marcus decided. However close the bond between them, Festus had been with Caesar long before Marcus had entered his life. It would be dangerous to test his loyalty to his former master. Festus was a man of honour and unbending in the principles he believed in. He had been ordered by Caesar
to accompany Marcus on his quest to find and save his mother. If he discovered that Marcus was the son of Spartacus, one of the most dangerous enemies ever to have threatened Rome, then he would feel duty-bound to inform Caesar and obey any instructions that Caesar gave to decide the fate of Marcus.

Andreas leaned back from the table and cast a sympathetic look at Festus. ‘A touchy pair, these two. How do you put up with them? If they were in my charge, I’d give ’em a good clip round the ear if they opened their mouths like that.’

‘They’re not in my charge,’ Festus replied. ‘They are my companions. My comrades in arms. My friends.’

It was the first time that Festus had used the word and both Marcus and Lupus looked at him in surprise. Marcus felt a surge of pride that this man he admired and respected should regard him as a friend. Despite all the dangers and hardships they had shared, Festus had never revealed his feelings.

‘Friends, eh?’ Andreas cocked an eyebrow. ‘So what are you and your friends doing here, far from Rome? I assume there’s more to it than wandering from town to town, earning a pittance from your fights.’

‘It pays for food and lodging,’ Festus countered. ‘What more do we need?’

‘What indeed?’ Andreas took a gulp of wine and ran his eyes
over each of them in turn before he continued. ‘So, what’s the real story?’

Marcus knew that if they were to succeed in their quest then they would need information. He exchanged a quick look with Festus and nodded subtly.

‘We’re looking for someone,’ said Festus. ‘Maybe you can help us.’

‘Oh? Who’s that then?’

Festus nodded at Marcus. ‘His mother. She was kidnapped into slavery two years ago. His father was killed and Marcus escaped, only to be taken by a gladiator trainer. All quite illegal, you understand. They were Roman citizens and our former employer takes a dim view of fellow citizens being treated this way. He wants Marcus’s mother found and released. If the man responsible for it can be found and made to pay for his crime then so much the better.’

Andreas glanced at Marcus. ‘That’s tough. I’m sorry for your loss, boy. Sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it.’

Marcus nodded, fighting back the emotions that had been awoken by revisiting his past.

‘Anyway, what can I do for you?’ Andreas asked. ‘You think I know where to find every slave in Greece?’

‘No,’ Marcus replied, clearing his throat as he suppressed his
feelings. ‘But you can help us find the man who destroyed my family. His name is Decimus. He was a magistrate in Stratos at the time, and he owned land in the Peloponnese. He’s bald and has a limp.’

Andreas nodded and scratched his chin. ‘Can’t say I know the man. I’ve been to Stratos a few times and never come across him. But there is a Decimus who is a tax collector. He has the contract for most of the towns in this part of the province. He comes to Chalcis twice a year to oversee the process.’

Marcus leaned forward. ‘When is that?’

The Greek clicked his tongue. ‘You just missed him. He passed through the area a few days ago. Won’t be seeing him again until the end of the year.’

Marcus let out a frustrated sigh and clenched his fists.

‘Do you know anything else about Decimus?’ Festus intervened.

‘No.’

‘All right then, we’d be grateful if you kept this all to yourself. Is there anyone else you know of who might give us some information?’

‘Not here in Chalcis. But there’s a big slave market at Stratos. There are plenty of traders passing through. If anyone can help you locate the boy’s mother, then they’ll be able to.’

Marcus felt his blood go cold as he recalled the slave market and the night when he and his mother had been visited by Decimus who had gloated over their suffering. His stomach knotted painfully and he renewed his vow to make Decimus suffer when the time came for his revenge. A simple death would be too good for the man.

‘Stratos, then.’ Festus broke into his bitter thoughts. ‘That’s where we’re headed. We’ll try the slave market like you suggest, and see if anyone has information. We’d better make plans for the night and set off early in the morning. We thank you, Andreas. For your help. And the drink.’

‘You’re welcome. And thank you for the lesson. I’ll think twice before I step up to fight any strangers passing through Chalcis again.’ He drained his cup and peered into the jug, frowning when he saw that it was empty. ‘Then I’ll leave you to discover what pleasures the port has to offer.’

He rose from the bench and belched loudly before turning to Marcus. ‘Good luck, lad. I hope you find what you are looking for.’

Marcus nodded his thanks and the Greek turned away, heading down a narrow alley towards the sunlit street that led back into the heart of the town. When he was gone Festus shook his head.

‘I think it will be harder to find our man than we thought.’

‘But we must find Decimus!’ Marcus said urgently. ‘We need to find out exactly where he sent my mother.’

‘We know she’s somewhere in the Peloponnese,’ Lupus intervened. ‘At an estate owned by Decimus. Perhaps it would be better if we started there.’

‘Lupus is right.’ Festus nodded. ‘It makes more sense.’

‘No,’ Marcus responded firmly. ‘We stick to my plan. We find Decimus and force him to tell us where he is keeping my mother, then we rescue her.’

Lupus pursed his lips. ‘Why bother with Decimus? We’ve got just as much chance of finding the estate as we have of finding him. More, in fact, since estates are not in the habit of travelling around, as Decimus seems to be.’

His attempt at lightening the mood fell flat and Lupus folded his hands together and puffed his cheeks. ‘Just saying …’

There was a brief silence as they looked out to sea. In the distance, across the blue water dotted with the square sails of merchant ships and the smaller triangular sails of fishing boats, lay the northern coast of the Peloponnese. The region’s mountains towered up, grey and daunting in the distance. Somewhere in that direction lay his mother, and Marcus found it hard to be heading in the opposite direction for the present. But he had
to pick up Decimus’s trail first if he was to be led directly to his mother, he told himself.

‘We could spend months searching the Peloponnese,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘We can’t afford to waste any time. If Decimus hears we’ve been snooping around estates in the area, then he’ll have my mother killed to destroy the evidence of his crime. We need to be careful and take one step at a time. First, we track down Decimus. That’s my decision.’

‘Your decision?’ Festus cocked an eyebrow. ‘We’re all in this together, Marcus.’

Marcus turned to face him as he replied firmly, ‘Caesar sent you to help me. Both of you. So we’ll stick with
my
plan.’

Festus and Lupus looked at him for a moment before Festus raised a hand and ran his fingers through his cropped hair.

‘As you wish, Marcus. But I can’t help feeling that this is all as much about finding Decimus as it is about finding your mother.’

‘We need to find him first in order to find her, like I said.’

‘Perhaps. But if I were you, Marcus, I’d search my heart and ask myself a question. Which is more important – revenge, or rescue?’

Festus did not wait for a response but stood up and stretched, then grimaced and gently rubbed his ribs where Andreas had
struck him with the staff. ‘We need to find a place for the night. Then get a good meal, a decent sleep and be up and on the road to Stratos at first light. We’ll get some miles under our belts before it’s too hot. Then rest until the afternoon before we continue. Come on, let’s move.’

Lupus stood first, and then Marcus, after a brief hesitation. They picked up their packs and headed back down the hill into the town. Festus led the way, then Lupus, while Marcus brought up the rear. None of them talked and that suited Marcus. He was thinking about what Festus had said. Was he driven more by the desire for revenge on Decimus, than by the desire to save his mother?

No!
he thought instinctively … But then, the more he considered it, the more the burden of all the suffering that he had endured came trickling into his mind. The loss of his home. His dog, Cerberus, who had died defending him. Titus, who had raised and loved him as his own son. Then there had been the pain and hardship of the gladiator school where he had been branded on the chest with the mark of its owner. He raised his spare hand to touch his tunic above the scar, recalling the sickening agony of the heated iron pressed into his flesh. After that had been the terror of the fight in the arena of the school against two wolves. And later the fight to the death with the Celtic
boy-gladiator Ferax in the Forum in Rome. All of which had scarred Marcus’s young mind. And all because of Decimus.

Getting revenge on Decimus was the only way he could see to remove the burden of all he had suffered. Another boy might have been driven mad by what had happened, Marcus reflected. The only thing that kept him sane was the thought of saving his mother. But he could not do one thing without the other. Revenge and rescue. The bitter truth was that he needed them both.