The Emperor's Knives (40 page)

‘Well then, it seems that I had no need to worry on your behalf.’

Velox was waiting for them beyond the guards’ cordon. He gestured to the man in charge of the gate.

‘I’ll take them from here, if your men can just see us through to the tunnel.’

They waited while a party of guards was mustered to get them from the gate to the tunnel’s mouth, and, looking out through the tall, arched opening, Marcus realised that it was going to take more than the half-dozen who had seen them across the gap between amphitheatre and tunnel an hour before. Where there had been no more than twenty fans waiting in the open space previously, there were now more than two hundred, all chanting the same chorus that had greeted the fall of the last prisoner.

‘
Corvus! Corvus! Corvus!
’

The champion gladiator shook his head at Marcus.

‘They’re strange creatures, the sheep that flock to watch us wolves tear at each other. They’ll pick a man that takes their fancy and turn him into the next best thing to a god. And you Corvus, well you’ve taken their fancy in a big way. They think you were toying with those poor bloody Dacians, when you maimed and then killed one of them, and held the other at sword point so that he could take a spear in the back. They think you’re the next big thing, a man blessed with all the skill and brutality needed to become a hero of the arena. And perhaps you are, except …’

He looked at the three men for a moment, then pointed at Horatius.

‘You, you were born for this. You’re quick, ruthless, skilful … I can see a great future for you, my friend. And you …’ He looked at Dubnus with a smile. ‘What you lack in sophistication you make up for in brute force, and the will to apply it without hesitation.’

He turned back to Marcus with a quizzical expression.

‘But you? You’re something else, Corvus. Fast, blindingly fast, and as good with two swords as my brother, if not quite up to my standard, and yet …’ He shook his head. ‘You’re just not a killer, are you?’

Marcus looked back at him without answering, and Dubnus guffawed quietly.

‘Not a killer? Our boy here’s killed more men in the last three years than you’ll ever fight.’

The gladiator shook his head, holding Marcus’s stare.

‘Not the type of killer that makes for a top-class fighter. You can kill alright, but you can’t do it in cold blood, can you? You have to be angry, or threatened, and if you’re not then the fire that drives you dies out like that.’

He clicked his fingers, raising an eyebrow to elicit some response from the Roman.

‘I saw you with that last Dacian, I was watching your face while you were fighting, and right up until you killed the poor bastard whose arm you’d hacked off, you were terrifying, relentless. Even I’d have been nervous if I’d been facing you. But when the last man pissed himself, you stopped fighting, just like that.’

He pursed his lips and stared at Marcus for a moment.

‘And here’s the thing. Right now, Julianus is up there on the senatorial balcony with the other procurators slapping him on the shoulder and telling him what a find you three are. He’ll be misty-eyed at the thought of a couple of dozen fights from you, with all the opportunities to make a profit every time you set foot on the sand. I just hope that
you
can deliver on that promise.’

‘Well then, what a show!’

Cleander had crossed the imperial box again, breezing past the guards to plant himself firmly in the middle of the small crowd congratulating Julianus on his men’s seemingly effortless victory. The pleasure of watching his colleague Novius’s face as the tiros had ripped through their hapless opponents was wiped away in an instant by a sinking feeling as the imperial chamberlain inclined his head in a deep bow of respect, his mouth twisted in a half-smile.

‘Quite stunning, Julianus, even by the redoubtable standards your school has set down the years. And the breathtaking cruelty displayed by that man Corvus! The emperor is more than impressed, and you know that’s not something that happens every day, given his titanic prowess with any weapon you care to name.’ He leaned close to Julianus, raising a hand to whisper confidentially in his ear. ‘He’s asked me to convey my congratulations on a superb performance, and to assure you that it hasn’t gone unnoticed.’

Julianus allowed his breath to hiss slowly and almost inaudibly from between his teeth, the tension slowly ebbing from his body as he realised that Cleander was doing no more than passing on the thanks of a delighted patron. But as he tilted his head ready to bow in return, the chamberlain spoke again, his voice edged with the iron that he’d been expecting.

‘He also asked me to make a
request
of you.’ The emphasis was accompanied by a twist of the other man’s lips and a raising of his eyebrows that left the procurator in no doubt as to the binding nature of the request. ‘Caesar was so impressed by these three men, and by Corvus in particular, that he instructed me to request a small favour of you, a chance to see them at work from a slightly closer perspective …’ He paused for a moment, and Julianus realised with a further slump what was coming. ‘A private bout, Procurator, a blood match in the privacy of your school premises. This man Corvus matched against one of your best men to provide Caesar with a more adequate display of the man’s talents.’

Julianus nodded slowly.

‘A blood match? I have just the man, Hermes, a fast and lethal fighter from—’

‘Mortiferum.’

The procurator frowned.

‘I—’

Cleander shook his head, his lips wreathed in a sardonic smile.

‘Caesar was most specific. He wishes to see this new boy’s skills tested against your deadliest fighter, and his instruction was for the match to be fought with your best. With Mortiferum.’

Julianus spread his hands.

‘Not that I have any place arguing with my Caesar …’

Cleander smiled again, but this time the expression was thinly stretched.

‘How very wise of you, Procurator.’

‘But surely Velox must be my deadliest man?’

The chamberlain shrugged.

‘Not in the emperor’s view. So, Corvus and Mortiferum, tomorrow evening.’

‘Tomorrow? Mortiferum fights a pair of fish men the day after!’

Cleander shook his head dismissively.

‘Not any more he doesn’t. That bout’s been rescheduled for next week, plenty of time for him to get over his exertions. It’s amazing how quickly these things can be resolved when an emperor’s wishes are involved, isn’t it?’

Recognising defeat, Julianus bowed again.

‘In which case I will be delighted to host Caesar in the Dacian School tomorrow evening. Please convey my delight and gratitude at having my fighters selected for such an honour.’

Scaurus stepped forwards, nodding his respect to the chamberlain.

‘With your permission, Aurelius Cleander, I’d very much like to see that fight. Might I beg the emperor’s indulgence and be allowed to attend?’

The chamberlain’s mouth twitched into a smile.

‘It seems that you will persist in this habit of putting yourself at risk by interposing yourself into situations where you really have no business. You got away with it the last time by the skin of your teeth, didn’t you?’ He raised an eyebrow at Scaurus, who acknowledged the point with a nod. ‘Indeed. How many men can say that he’s had an emperor’s knifepoint under his chin and escaped without a mark? It’s something of an exclusive club, I can assure you.’ He smirked, his expression taking on a knowing look. ‘Are you sure you want to take the same risk twice?’

‘To see my centurion fight a renowned champion gladiator? Of course …’

Cleander shrugged.

‘Very well, Tribune. After all, it is, as they say, your funeral …’

He turned away with the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and Scaurus turned to his first spear with a slow exhalation.

‘Every time I deal with that man I have the feeling that I’m teasing a poisonous snake with a very short stick. I think perhaps it’s time to let Cotta do what he’s been suggesting ever since your centurion decided to abandon his new life and go after Mortiferum.’

Julius nodded, watching the chamberlain as he walked through the guards and back into the imperial box.

‘I’ll go with him.’

Scaurus smiled.

‘Curious, First Spear?’

Julius nodded with a snort of suppressed laughter.

‘Curious? Too bloody right I am, Tribune. Aren’t you?’

The slave girl Calistra came to Dubnus again that night, her visit lasting little longer than the first time. Again, having silenced the Briton, she worked his manhood into her, ground herself against his body until he lost the ability to hold himself back and then climbed off his body with a gentle smile.

‘That two time. One more time and thank is done.’

Gripping her hand, he restrained her flight, pulling her close to him.

‘My name is Dubnus. And I will free you Calistra. I promise.’

Her smile broadened, but her head shook emphatically.

‘You never free me. I here all my life.’

He stared up into her eyes.

‘I swear. I will free you. The next time you lie on top of me it won’t be in this place, and you’ll be free to choose whether to lie with me or seek another man. I have sworn this.’

10

The imperial chamberlain swept into the ludus’s formal reception hall the next evening at the head of a small party of two praetorian guardsmen and a single slave, looking about him at the mural-decorated walls, the intricate mosaic floor and the statues depicting gladiators in fighting poses. Julianus stood in the hall’s centre ready to greet his emperor, dressed and barbered to perfection, the other ludi’s procurators and Scaurus waiting to one side.

‘Greetings Chamberlain!’

Cleander nodded regally to Julianus’s colleagues, then smiled wryly at Scaurus.

‘I see you’ve persisted with your urge to watch your man Corvus in action, Tribune Scaurus. How fortunate that you’ll be able to witness one of the most
interesting
gladiatorial contests in the city for many a year.’ He looked about at the lavish decor. ‘Very nice, Julianus. Very nice indeed. You clearly believe in providing your more aristocratic clients with the feel of quality?’

Julianus nodded, gesturing at the walls with an air of self-deprecation.

‘We operate a spartan enough school, staying as close to the traditions of the founders as we can, but we do always try to make our private clients feel at home when they come here. We hope that a little luxury will differentiate our offering from that which they might experience elsewhere, and encourage them to favour us with their presence on future occasions. I presume that you’ve come in advance of the emperor?’

Cleander shook his head, waving a dismissive hand at the question.

‘Regrettably, Tettius Julianus, Caesar won’t be joining us this evening.’

‘There’s probably nothing that I can tell you about my brother that will be of very much use to you. He’s been fighting in the arena for just as long as I have, he’s every bit as good as me, and even with your obvious talents we both know that you’re not going to stand a chance of beating him. After all, you only really fight when your temper’s lit, don’t you?’

Marcus nodded, keeping his eyes averted as Velox paced across the room towards him with a knowing look to Dubnus and Horatius, who were leaning against the far wall watching the impromptu training session.

‘No, you’ll be fighting to minimise the damage he could do to you if you manage to get his back up. Fight defensively, make sure you always have a space to retreat into, and at some point be prepared to take your three cuts and end the fight. Not too quickly, mind you, or Commodus might just order the pair of you to keep going until he’s satisfied that you’ve given your best. Show me your blades …’

He examined the swords, shaking his head in disgust.

‘You’re fighting the Death Bringer, and Sannitus arms you with this rubbish? Fetch my swords!’

One of the junior gladiators ran for the weapons, and while the four men waited, Velox raised the blades he’d taken from Marcus before him, their points inches from the Roman’s face.

‘Now watch carefully. My little brother may be as fast as a striking snake, but he has his habits just like the rest of us, and there are a couple of them that you’ll need to watch out for. Firstly, there’s this …’

He wristed the right-hand blade in a flashing arc, stopping its swing just at the point where it was poised for a chopping blow at Marcus’s head.

‘He threatens your head, you respond with a sword raised to catch the blow and he lunges in …’ He pushed the other sword forward with a swift stamp of his leading foot. ‘And before you know what he’s doing, he’s sliced your forearm open or, if he’s in a really bad mood, he’s cut a chunk out of your armpit and your life’s running down your arm.’

Velox stepped backwards, resuming his previous position.

‘And here’s another little trick he’s particularly fond of.’

He danced back, his eyes taunting Marcus and drawing the Roman forward, as if they were fighting for real, and as his opponent approached, he took another step back. As Marcus raised his foot to step forward again, the other man sprang off his back foot, his blades suddenly in the Roman’s face in a move so fast that Marcus didn’t know if he could have countered it even if he’d had swords of his own.

‘Be ready for that one too. He uses it in most of his fights with men who don’t know his style. Ah, here are
my
swords …’

The champion gladiator took his weapons, drawing both blades and discarding their elaborately decorated scabbards. He handed them over and then stepped back, making space for the Roman to swing them. Marcus ran through a swift series of practice cuts and lunges, nodding at the weapons’ excellent balance. Looking closely at the blades, he raised an eyebrow at the gladiator, his eyes hard with concentration.

‘These are …’

Velox grinned.

‘I think the word you’re looking for is
incomparable.
And you’d be right. They’re a pound lighter apiece than the usual weapons we’re issued with, and they’re edged with some special iron that stays sharp longer in a fight. They’re my arena swords, saved for occasions when I need to put on a bit of a show, but perhaps they’ll help to even up the advantage my brother will have over you.’