Gladiatrix (42 page)

A guard took a yellow flag to the prow of the boat, and signalled another boat docked on the other side of the arena. It skimmed towards us.

‘What's that?' the woman with the sword demanded of anyone. No-one answered.

As it came closer we could see it towed a long raft. On it were two big cages, covered with a thin gold material. We could only see movement, not what was inside.

‘Whatever it is, we have to get out of here. Now!' I warned.

But how?

The slaves had stopped rowing us forward, and were whispering amongst themselves. The faux warships in front of us now blocked that direction. We might be able to get the slaves to row, but where? The nearby Praetorian craft prevented us from circling out and away from the arena wall. We were blocked in.

‘Go get your armies to help.' I nodded to the two ships up ahead. ‘Then we have a chance to fight our way out. They're going to kill us anyway. It's our only chance.'

The three women ran to the front deck, and began shouting out in their different languages. But the men didn't respond, they were fighting for their lives.

The Praetorians pulled up alongside, and shoved a gangplank across the flat lower deck, in front of the first cage. They crushed some of the rowers as they did it.

The slaves knew this was the end, and began wailing.

Then they opened the cage. Oh God. It was a young lion.

It stepped gingerly out onto the plank, unhappy with the rocking motion of the barge.

I was still cuffed to the stand! An archaic fear rose through me, claws and teeth on soft bodies. I couldn't get away. I couldn't get away!

Above us the crowd laughed, and applauded the new diversion. They chanted with glee, ‘Praetorians! Praetorians!'

The captive women started screaming to their men. This time they heard.

The Praetorians moved their boat between us and the rammed ship, spears ready.

Then we all turned back to watch the lion.

As it leapt onto the deck, it seemed as though the whole arena held its breath.

The spectators stood frozen in ecstatic anticipation, meanwhile word was spreading across the captive navies. Everyone could now see that the queens were not to be spared.

The lion looked up at the women, and then down at the slaves chained below.

One of the slaves, directly below the lion, started sobbing. The lion studied him, and then sprang down into the midst of the rowers.

They screamed as he began to rip at everyone within reach. Watching in terror the women lined the railing ready to jump.

I worked frantically at my cuffs. I had to get free! I had to!

The captive men in the two nearby ships hung over the side urging their queens to jump in and swim to them. As the screams from the slaves finished, the women began to dive into the water.

Then the Praetorians opened the second cage. Directly into the water.

It held two crocodiles.

Oh God. Oh God. No …

The water became a screaming pool of snapping jaws and blood.

I shut my eyes, unable to watch the water, but equally unable to turn to check where the lion was.

This was the end for me. I couldn't save anyone but myself now. I leant, neck first, into my hands and worked the transponder.

Press three times, then hold for three. Then three more presses.

I waited for the surge. I'd take my chances with the Isiacs.

Five deep breaths. But nothing.

Ice-cold panic.

I tried again. Nothing.

Claws clicked on wood. I lifted my head.

The lion was climbing up to the rear deck.

The crowd above me was urging it on to finish the job. I was the only one left alive.

Bang.

The barge, drifting out of control, crashed end first into the arena wall, smashing the rudder. The heavy jolt wrenched my wrists and shoulders, as I struggled to keep my feet.

The lion, having just eaten, was now taking its time. Watching me, looking up at the crowd, sniffing the deck.

Someone above began cursing it. It was too slow and they were bored. Missiles rained down, trying to herd the lion in my direction.

This was it. This was the end. This was my Field of Reeds. It would all end there.

A rock bounced off the lion's nose, and skipped across to my feet.

It snarled, mouth wide, teeth bared, and sprang towards me. I closed my eyes.

A whoosh of air, and the sound of claws digging into wood.

I opened them again.

Incensed, the lion was climbing the arena wall to get to the person that had thrown that rock.

But it landed in the front row, and tore into the Vestals like an out-of-control blender.

The first two were swiped, and fell past me, dying as they hit the water. It herded the rest into a white marble corner, and ripped them apart.

The crowd screamed its anguish, while the Praetorians killed it in a rain of spears. The lion lay, head back, jaws bloody, in amongst the mound of white-robed bodies.

The silence was total.

The Vestals were the sacred heart of Roman religion. Their personal link to their gods. Whispers started. This was a very bad omen. A dire omen.

An angry rumble erupted, and the crowd lunged up to stand shouting for death. Death to wipe away the blood curse that was staining the side of the arena, and the soul of Rome.

Someone yelled, ‘The Praetorians did this! They released the lion.'

The crowd turned on Augustus, and began calling for the death of the Praetorians responsible.

Rocks fell out of the sky pelting the Praetorian ships close to the walls. They scattered in surprised fury.

While the crowd had stirred into a violent frenzy, the battle in the middle of the arena had completely
collapsed. With their hostage queens so brutally murdered the faux navies were clustered in the middle. Consulting, no doubt, on how best to take revenge.

An agitated Augustus stomped to his feet. The Roman spectators and her captured enemies had joined as one. To wish death to his own personal guard! He made a swift hand movement to his attendant, and the trumpets blared out again.

The Praetorian boats moved into the cluster of faux battleships triggering a mechanism set into their sides.

In a matter of minutes the two fleets had caught fire, and were sinking. The slaves still chained to the oars screamed as they went down, while the surviving captives tried to fight their way onto the Praetorian craft. A few captives made it, only to be thrown back into the water after a short fight. Most were forced to hide amongst the debris, while they were hunted down with spears and arrows.

The water turned brown with the blood.

Above me the crowd howled its displeasure.

They hated the Praetorians for cursing them, and so every time a captive managed to prevail, the crowd cheered and taunted the guards with their failure. But soon nearly all the captives had been killed and the crowd was tired and disillusioned.

Then the Praetorians came for me.

 

So many bodies floated in the water that a soldier had to stand at the bow and push them under with an oar.

Now I understood why fundamentalists can still hold onto an Old Testament god. Something, or someone, should destroy this place, before the scar could set itself too deep inside the Earth.

Like me, Lurco's gladiator, Vonones, was being rowed towards the place where we'd fight. It was a
tethered raft, constructed to look like a temple altar. It sat right in front of Augustus and his mates.

Vonones, tall and heavily built, was dressed in a white and gold tunic, his hair dyed yellow-blond to fit into his role as Augustus. Or rather Augustus in disguise as his favourite god Apollo.

I still had the black wig and kilt on, but had lost the crown. The rock that'd knocked it off had affected my vision, and I was stiff and wounded, and trembling from shock.

But worst of all, I was drained of any desire to go on. Not after what I'd just lived through. I'd not expected to survive this long. Now I had to find a way to rouse myself. To fight.

High above the floating altar, Augustus and Livia sat with their family and guests, men on one side, women on the other. Augustus was frowning. He knew how this fight was going to finish, but he had to be concerned with whether my death would be spectacular enough to turn the tide.

At this point the crowd openly reviled the Praetorians. And from the sullen faces turned in his direction — they also hated him.

Livia was watching me intently, but her expression was difficult to read. She had to be unsure whether she wanted my claims to be proven true or not.

I swung back to watch Vonones. The fight was fixed, and probably in a dozen different ways. I already knew that my weapons would fail me. In the guise of Apollo, Vonones had a bow and quiver of golden arrows slung over his back, and a Roman short sword at his side.

I had a long-handled scythe and a small shield. The scythe was so blunt it wouldn't even break my skin if I stabbed into my leg, and it was partially sawn through
in three places. The shield seemed solid, but then I was sure that they wanted me to die by the Roman short sword, not at a distance from the arrows. As long as the final outcome was certain, they wanted the fight to last a little while at least.

My main problem was my right hand. The guards wanted to make sure nothing else went wrong today, so before they'd uncuffed me, they'd broken my index and middle fingers. Snapped them.

Now they hung useless and bloated, two centres of throbbing pain taking up my remaining strength and concentration.

Vonones and I reached opposite sides of the raft at the same time. We stepped on, and the two small boats pushed away. A fleet of boats containing more guards moved in to completely surround the platform. They all carried long spears. No more slip-ups allowed.

Trumpets sounded loudly to announce the final display. The sullen crowd became completely quiet.

We both turned and saluted Augustus with our weapons, and he nodded curtly. I dropped the useless scythe, and pushed my right forearm through the shield strap. I needed to keep my good hand free.

Vonones began to circle me — carefully. He was not going to dive straight in like Lucius, he must have been warned.

He fitted an arrow to his bow and fired at my legs. He must want to disable me first, then take his time cutting me up.

Dizzy when I moved my head, I miscalculated dodging his first arrow. It sliced through the side of my left thigh, just above the knee, and then dropped into the water behind me. The wound was superficial, but the sudden pain cut through the haziness, jolting my survival instincts back into action.

As the second arrow flew, the crowd still didn't respond. No-one really cared any more; they just wanted to go home.

When I dodged the arrow, it flew past me to hit one of the Praetorians. The crowd gave a shout of derisive laughter, as he fell back into the water. He was wearing armour, so his friends had to pull him out before he drowned.

Vonones looked up at Augustus, he wasn't pleased.

When Vonones fired another arrow and I ducked that as well, some of the crowd gave a weak cheer. Vonones and the Praetorians looked embarrassed.

I was tired and he was fresh, and I was only a woman after all.

A spectator yelled out, ‘Get your bloody sword out, dickhead.' That gave the crowd a belly laugh. They sat up in their seats again.

Vonones scowled and threw down his bow. He drew his sword and taunted me. ‘Where's Alexander now, whore? Lurco said to tell you he'll buy him when you are dead. First he'll use him, and then we'll torture him to death.'

I growled. The strength began to flow back into me. I could do this. I would do this!

Vonones moved into me, slashing and stabbing, but I slipped by, moving in unison with his swings.

As the blade swept past me for the fourth time, the crowd began to realise that it was not just good luck that was saving me.

The next time he missed, someone in the crowd yelled out, ‘Five.'

After that, every time he slashed at me the crowd shouted out the number of misses. That made Augustus even more disgusted, and Vonones started cursing with frustrated rage.

The crowd began to boo and hiss him. He'd failed to uphold the honour of Rome.

Now they hated him too.

Augustus signalled with his hand, and the boats rowed closer. The Praetorians tried to prod me with spears to make me engage with Vonones.

He laughed and beckoned me nearer. ‘Come on, you slut, you can't run forever.'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the soldiers lunge forward with a spear, aiming to pierce my left leg. I threw down my shield in time to deflect it.

The crowd, enraged by the cowardly intervention, stood and screamed, ‘Leave her alone!'

Trying to get me while I was still off-balance, Vonones brought his sword up high, and began to slice it down, straight onto the top of my head.

He meant to cleave me in half, head first.

Fenced in by spears I had no choice, but to use a move I'd been taught against samurai swords. I swung my two arms straight up to meet the downward-arcing sword, my palms slapping together to halt the naked blade, and twist it down and away. I had to choke back a scream, as my broken fingers jarred against the other hand.

At the sight of my defensive move, two hundred thousand mouths drew their breath. It sounded like a giant bird had flapped its wings in the air over my head.

While Vonones stood for one second with his mouth open, I grabbed the hilt of his sword with my left hand and kicked him savagely in the balls.

I held the hilt while Vonones shot backwards, directly onto the blade of one of the guards' spears. It spiked him right through, blood spurting out of his chest, and over me.

The guard, propelled by Vonones' momentum, fell backwards into the water. Vonones landed on the floor pushing the spear even further through his chest.

He lay looking up at me, choking up blood in the middle of a widening pool of red.