The doctore marched to the front of the line of gladiators and clapped his hands.
‘Right, then, ladies,’ he said. ‘Time to eat.’
The men began hurrying towards the benches. Calamus immediately raised a palm. Groaning, they halted.
‘Now remember what I said. Don’t go stuffing your bellies. Eat a little, not a lot. I don’t want to see any of you shitting out your guts when you step on to the sand.’ Calamus shot a look of contempt at the condemned criminals. ‘Leave the pigging out to those sorry bastards. It’s their last night before they tramp off to the Underworld. The rest of you have a chance of walking out alive. Some of you, anyway.’ Calamus looked at Pavo as he uttered the last words, and laughed.
Pavo took up his spot on the bench in a daze. The condemned men gathered meekly around a separate table, their chins tucked closely to their chests as they picked at the food on their plates in morbid silence. Half of the crowd stayed to watch the gladiators eat what would for some be their last meal. Others turned their attention to the goods on offer at the stalls, or departed to debate the upcoming games over a jug of cheap wine in the nearest tavern. Bucco plonked himself next to Pavo and looked half-heartedly at a tray of dainty pastries. His normally voracious appetite had deserted him. He slid a tray of shellfish across to his companion.
‘You’d better eat something,’ he implored. ‘You don’t want to fight Denter on an empty stomach.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ Pavo replied pithily.
‘Makes two of us, then,’ Bucco muttered as he stared at his feet.
‘What’s the matter, Roman?’ a glottal voice spat from further down the table. Pavo leaned forward to see Amadocus gorging on a bowl of sausages. Morsels of meat spilled down his front. He jerked his head in the direction of Macro. ‘Upset that your boyfriend has found a new lover?’
Pavo did not reply. Privately he was crestfallen at the thought of Macro training Denter. He struggled to fathom why the optio would help seal the fate of someone who had been wronged by the imperial palace. He made a silent plea to the gods to curse Macro.
A sudden burst of angry shouts broke out at the next table. Pavo awoke from his daydream and looked across to see Denter throwing Orodes to the ground and casually dropping into his spot at the bench. The other gladiators at the table stared at him in silence.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Orodes snapped as he scraped himself off the ground.
Denter grabbed a fistful of shellfish and shovelled them ravenously into his mouth. He washed down the mouthful with a loud slurp of wine and let out a monstrous belch. ‘You were in my seat, Persian.’
Anger rumbled in Orodes’s throat. He stood behind Denter and waited for him to move. But the veteran kept piling more food on his plate and swigging from the wine. Orodes stared coldly at the back of Denter’s head. Denter polished off the wine and slammed the cup on the table. In a blink, Orodes snatched the cup, hoisting it like a trophy above his head, and brought it crashing down on top of Denter’s skull. The sound of shattering pottery pierced the air. Denter froze. A wild smile formed on his lips as wine mixed with blood from his head wound and soaked his beard. He licked the mixture off his bottom lip. Then he slowly rose from the bench and turned to face Orodes. The Persian gulped with abject fear. His eyes widened with the realisation that striking Denter had been a terrible mistake.
In a sudden burst of anger, Denter charged at Orodes and wrapped his long arms around his neck. The other gladiators looked on in shock as Denter twisted the Persian’s head at an angle and clamped his teeth around his ear. Orodes howled in agony. Denter chewed on the ear for several painful moments. Then he ripped his head away in a furious grunt. Orodes squealed like a boiled rat as the ear was torn from his head. Blood sprayed the trays of food on the table. Denter spat mangled skin and cartilage from his mouth, his chin awash with blood, and let out a chilling roar.
‘Carbo was right,’ Bucco said. ‘Denter really is crazy.’
Two guards stormed towards Denter. A savage grin formed on the gladiator’s lips. The others shuffled back as Denter lowered to a crouch in front of the abandoned table, securing his palms against the edge. Springing upright, he tipped the table on to its side, then released his grip so it came crashing down at the onrushing guards. There was a cacophony of noise as an assortment of jugs and cups and trays smashed on the ground. The two guards scrambled to get out of the way as the table pounded down on top of them. The thud of wood against the paved ground was accompanied by the distinct crack of shattering ribcages. A third guard attacked Denter from across the forum, slashing his sword wildly. The blade hacked across Denter’s back and drew a howl of pain from the veteran. He clasped a hand to his back as another six guards swooped over their fallen comrades and surrounded him. Denter pumped a fist defiantly at the sky, much to the delight of the hooligans being marched away from the square. Then he disappeared behind a whirlwind of armour and swords. After a brief struggle, the guards wrestled him to the ground.
‘That’s it!’ Gurges fumed, his face stitched with rage. ‘The banquet is over! You!’ The lanista jabbed a bony finger at the chest of the nearest guard. ‘Round up the gladiators. I want them escorted back to the ludus at once. Condemned criminals are to return to jail for the night.’
The guards snapped into action, roughly hauling the gladiators to their bare feet and marching them into a ragged line. Bucco staggered into place as Pavo spied Gurges returning to the imperial secretary, his head hung low and his palms clasped humbly in front of him. Although Pavo was out of earshot, the tone of the lanista’s voice told the young gladiator that he was in the middle of a grovelling apology. The freedman looked unimpressed. Murena, Pavo noticed, had quietly slipped away from Pallas’s side to seek out Macro.
A guard grasped Pavo by the forearm and shifted him into line behind Bucco. The volunteer cast a final despondent look at the feast left on the trestle tables. Then the guards marched the gladiators out of the square and back to the ludus.
Macro watched Pavo and the other gladiators tramp out of the forum. The mob lingered, captivated by the abrupt outbreak of violence. The optio stared at Denter. His charge remained pinned to the ground by the guards. A pair of servants helped Orodes to his feet. Gurges instructed them to escort the wounded Persian to the ludus infirmary. The optio stared at the severed ear lying on the ground amid the scattered olives and breads and shards of shattered clay cups. He looked up to see Murena picking his way across the carnage.
‘What in Hades was that about?’ the aide rasped. His eyes were narrow and sharp like the teeth of a wolf. ‘We had a deal, Optio. You were supposed to keep Denter sober until after his fight with Pavo.’
‘And I would have kept my word if you hadn’t invited him along to the banquet,’ Macro countered with a snort and a hard glare. ‘I’ve been minding that lunatic for six long weeks, but I can’t watch him every hour of the day. My back was turned for a minute. Next thing I know, some lads are buying him rounds in the tavern. If we hadn’t had to bother with all this pomp and ceremony, Denter would be tucked up in bed now, sober as a state funeral.’
Murena flashed a scolding look at the soldier.
‘I don’t tell you how to do your job, Optio. Don’t tell me how to do mine.’
Macro shrugged. ‘Just saying.’
Two guards dragged Denter to his feet and slipped their arms across his shoulders. His eyes were glazed and heavily lidded. Drool slobbered from his slack lips and dribbled down his chest. He mumbled something incoherent about Titus. Macro and Murena watched the guards manhandle him away from the square. Macro yawned.