‘Leave the ludus!’ Macro shouted to the guard standing in front of the outer door. ‘Lock it behind you, and whatever you do, don’t open it up!’
The guard nodded and hobbled out through the doors, slamming them shut behind him. In the same instant Macro spun to his left and hacked through the tautened portcullis rope with his sword with a single clean blow. The rope snapped apart, and the gate crashed heavily to earth. The gladiator on the ground screamed as the spikes punched through his arms, legs and torso, impaling him.
‘I’ve always wanted to do that, sir.’
Macro looked over his shoulder at Bassus. He stood beaming over the bodies of the two gladiators who’d been operating the ropes on the left. They now lay sprawled on the sand.
‘What’s that, Bassus?’
‘Carve up a couple of Thracians. Devious buggers, sir. Couldn’t trust any of ’em further than you could piss.’
Macro chuckled drily. ‘There’s one or two men I could describe that way.’
He sucked in a breath through his teeth as his thoughts turned to Pallas and Murena. The imperial secretary and his aide would surely make him pay a heavy price for the gladiator rebellion. He quickly shook his head clear. There would be plenty of time to worry about the Greeks later. First he had to put a stop to Bato.
‘Sir!’ Bassus exclaimed. ‘Look …’
The guard pointed to the dormitory. Two gladiators were dangling a guard from a window on the first floor, gripping him by his feet. The guard was still alive. The gladiators began hacking through his ankles with a pair of saws. The guard howled in agony, thrashing wildly as the saw teeth sliced through bone, before he fell to earth with a thud. Another guard had been set alight and pushed from a window. He landed not far from his stricken comrade and rolled desperately on the ground in a futile attempt to put out the flames.
‘Good gods,’ Bassus said with a shiver.
Macro turned away from the terrifying spectacle. ‘Back to the lanista’s quarters. Now!’
They raced across the training ground to the sounds of shrieks and moans as the freed gladiators exacted revenge on the remaining guards inside the dormitory. In the shadow of the porticoes at the northern end of the training ground Macro caught sight of Bato emerging from the dormitory block. Freed gladiators poured out after the Thracian. Bato made a lewd gesture at Macro with his hands and crotch, while around him rampant gladiators uprooted the paluses and overturned the stone sundial.
‘Sir,’ Bassus said. ‘We have to go!’
Macro ground his teeth at the sight of the mutinous gladiators, then hurried on to the lanista’s quarters in the gathering dusk, muttering under his breath.
‘I swear to the gods, Bato will pay for this.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Macro raced down a wide corridor alongside Bassus, away from the ludus training ground. At the end of the corridor the two men scrambled up a set of marble steps and stopped in front of a solid double wooden door fitted with ornate bronze doorknobs. Macro clasped the knocker, a bronze ring running through the mouth of a wolf’s head, and rapped three times on the door.
‘Who’s there?’ a muffled voice asked from the other side.
‘It’s Macro! For fuck’s sake, open up!’
There was a brief pause, followed by a series of metallic clanks and groans as someone fiddled with the heavy lock. Then the door creaked open to reveal Glabrio, breathing a sigh of immense relief.
‘Thank Fortuna!’ He smiled uncertainly. ‘Thought you might have been done for, sir.’
Macro brushed past the young soldier. ‘It’ll take more than a few barbarians to cut me down, lad. I’ve been sending men like Bato over to the afterlife for thirteen years.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’ Glabrio shivered as he slammed the door shut and secured the lock. ‘I used to be with the urban watch here in Capua, sir. Putting out fires and breaking up fights outside the taverns, that sort of thing. Never thought I’d be fighting for my life against a mob of fanatical gladiators.’
A depressing sight greeted the optio in the lanista’s quarters. The few surviving guards from the skirmish huddled in a group in the middle of the room. Among them was Macer. They were in a state of shock, drenched with sweat and blood. The orderlies and household slaves stood further back, their wretched faces stitched with anxiety at the sudden outbreak of violence, their eyes collectively focused on Macro for reassurance that their miserable lives were not in immediate danger.
Macro noticed a dishevelled figure pinned down under a guard, who pressed down on the man’s back with his knees. The figure rocked his shoulders, trying to shake the guard off. His legs and arms were purpled with bruises and his curly hair was matted with blood.
‘Got one of the bastards, sir!’ the guard declared proudly. ‘The slaves found him hiding in one of the side rooms and alerted us when we got here. He was clearly intending to ambush us, sir.’
‘Urghhh,’ the figure croaked.
Macro thought he recognised the groan. He approached the man, wrinkling his nose at the putrid smell coming off his filthy skin and hair. At the optio’s instruction, the guard reluctantly slid off the man’s back and Macro lifted the figure by his chin to get a better look at him.
‘Pavo!’ he exclaimed. ‘What in Hades happened to you?’
‘Sir …’
Macro ordered one of the household slaves to fetch a cup of wine. A few moments later the slave returned and passed the cup to the young gladiator. Pavo downed the wine in one gulp while an orderly who had experience of working in the infirmary examined his injuries. The sutured wound on Pavo’s shoulder had been ripped open and resembled a pair of puckered lips. His jaw was swollen and his lips were distended. The orderly applied a new gauze dressing to his shoulder wound while Pavo sat gingerly upright.
‘You’re covered in shit,’ Macro observed drily.
‘I know, sir.’
‘And you smell like Gallic cunny.’
‘I seem to remember it was you who allowed Aculeo to put me on latrine duty.’
‘Just saying.’ Macro shrugged. ‘Seems to happen to you a lot.’
The young gladiator groaned. ‘This is no time for humour … sir. I am in rather a lot of pain.’
‘That’s your problem, Pavo. Always bloody complaining. Now, what happened?’
The young gladiator glared at Macro through his puffed-up eyes. ‘They ambushed me, sir. In the baths. I overheard them plotting the rebellion. Then they left for me dead. I managed to escape when they went to begin the uprising. I came here to warn you. But it was too late.’
‘Bato’s thugs?’
Pavo nodded and swallowed hard. ‘They’re planning to escape the ludus, sir. Make their way to the hills and set up as a brigand outfit.’
‘Shit.’ Macro rubbed his jaw.
‘Why didn’t they all make a run for it back there when they had the chance, sir?’ Bassus asked. ‘Only a few tried to escape, rather than the entire mob. It doesn’t make sense.’